


Architect of Fate

by OriginalAlcy



Series: The Fate Trilogy [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Heavy Angst, No Fluff, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-20 12:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 359,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalAlcy/pseuds/OriginalAlcy
Summary: Victory over the Reapers was achieved only at a steep galactic and personal cost – billions are dead and the galaxy hovers on the verge of anarchy. Scarred and changed by her actions, Evan Shepard risks losing everything she loves in the brutal struggle for peace.The continuation of the Mass Effect universe created in Catalyst of Fate. FemShep/Liara; Ashley/Miranda.





	1. Natural Born World-Shaker

**A/N** : I guess this is the place where I'm supposed to give a quick recap of the events of _Catalyst of Fate_. I'm just going to say that you should read that one first. I threw in a few non-canon elements that you might want to catch up on. I don't want to spoil it for you...just hurry up and read it already.

For those of you who are re-joining the _Fate_ party-train, a very huge welcome to the continuing story. Architect of Fate kicks off from where I left things at the end of _Catalyst_ and continues from there. I haven't suddenly had a brain transplant, so expect more of the same - three parts angst, two parts action, one part humour, a dash of character death on the side and more than enough femslash to sink a battleship.

* * *

 

 **Chapter One**  
**Natural Born World-Shaker**

_By the Goddess._

The asari invocation was an involuntary reaction. Other than 'holy fuck,' they were the only words that she could find to explain the myriad of emotions playing havoc with her fragile state of being upon seeing Liara. Slowly but surely an amazing warmth spread throughout her entire body. She tried to grin but found even that simple gesture was too taxing to sustain for more than a few seconds. _Did we actually do it?_

Liara was curled up in a chair positioned near the bed. It hardly seemed like a comfortable position to sleep in, but somehow Liara had managed it. Her face was pressed against the headrest, and a blanket was tucked so securely around her body that someone else had to have done it for her. From her limited vantage point, Shepard hungrily examined her bondmate with her eyes – desperately trying to confirm that she was unscathed. There were no wounds that she could see. The pigment alterations on her forehead and crest were still present - a remnant of Isini Aegir's madness. There were deep shadows around her eyes, but she otherwise appeared in excellent health. Her cheeks looked almost…rosy.

Shepard couldn't say the same for herself. Despite struggling intently for almost a minute, her efforts resulted only in her head lifting from the pillow. That small movement was enough to confirm that she really was as weak as she felt. She recalled feeling a similar helplessness once before - when she had woken on Lazarus Station to the sound of klaxons blaring and Miranda Lawson shouting at her. _Don't tell me I fucking died again?_

With that uncomfortable thought foremost in her mind, Shepard did her best to ascertain whether she was still in one piece. When she lifted her head, she could see nothing of her body beneath the light bedclothes that covered her. It felt as though she was in one piece. _Fingers…check._ With a slight grunt of satisfaction, Shepard realised that she could wriggle her toes. There were two arms and two legs, exactly where they should be. It was at that point that she looked across and saw that Liara was awake and staring at her. Her bondmate’s mouth parted slightly in astonishment.

"You…okay?" The words emerged as a rasping croak. She sounded as though she had not used her voice for some time. "...look tired."

Liara suddenly sat up. The blanket slipped down slightly as she reached forward to take Shepard's left hand in her own. The simple contact sent a jolt through Shepard's body, eliminating any last suspicions that she was dreaming. However, when she tried to squeeze Liara's hand, she could only apply a slightly pressure.

"Goddess, Evan. It is me who should be asking you that question," Liara whispered breathlessly.

"Did I…die?" Shepard asked hesitantly.

"Oh!" Liara shook her head. "No-" She bit her lip, unsure of herself before she continued. "You were…missing."

Although her face ached slightly, Shepard was pleased that she could manage a frown. A gnawing disquiet was growing in her stomach. "How long?"

The pressure of Liara's grip on her hand increased. "Six months," she eventually answered.

Shepard's eyes widened. "Six…" With a grunt of effort, she struggled to try and lift her body from the bed. The dull ache increased until it radiated throughout her body in sharp stabbing pains. She gave up and slumped helplessly against the pillows. "Li-" she whispered brokenly.

Tears were welling beneath Liara's eyes and she shook her head. "Forgive me, Shepard. I promise I will explain everything that happened, but I do not want to talk about it now, not in this moment." Although she was crying openly, a light laugh bubbled on her lips. It lasted for only a few moments but it was enough to help Shepard find acceptance in the unknown. "I want to hold onto this feeling for a little longer."

"Hey," Shepard said quietly, sensing Liara's distress. Her trembling fingers were finally able to stroke Liara's hand. "Take as long as you need, I’m pretty sure I’m not going anywhere." As she became reacquainted with speaking, it became easier. "One question though, then I'll shut up. Are the fucking Reapers dead?"

Liara nodded quickly. "Thanks to The Shepard."

"What do you mean _The_ Shepard?" _I think there's something to be said for being a martyr as opposed to a hero of the living sort._ "They can't possibly be trying to pin all of this on me. I had a shit load of help!" Shepard protested. Her eyes widened. "I know I promised no more questions-"

"Evan…you must remain calm." Liara scooted the chair a little closer to the bed. She was able to reach out and stroke the side of her bondmate's face. "They're all fine – the _Normandy_ , Garrus, Tali, Samantha, Javik, Joker, EDI, Miranda and Ash…all fine."

"Thank the Goddess," Shepard whispered. She leaned into Liara's touch and breathed a sigh of relief that her companions had come through unscathed. She had not led more good people to their deaths.

"Your Mother was here yesterday," Liara added.

Shepard remembered the almost familial conversation they had shared on the _Glasgow's_ CIC. For all their differences, she was relieved to hear that Hannah Shepard was alive. "Please tell me she was nice to..." The last part tapered off as she yawned widely. Merely keeping her eyes open was an exercise in determination.

"Of course she was." Liara nodded. "Although I think it came as something of a shock to find me in my present condition-"

Another yawn escaped Shepard's lips, cutting Liara's sentence short. "I'm so sorry," she said in exasperation. She desperately wanted to stay awake but her eyelids had other plans. They kept trying to droop down over her eyes when all she wanted to do was stare at Liara.

"Rest," Liara whispered. She stood, letting the blanket fall away from her body as she did. Her back was aching and she stretched for a moment. Shepard's eyes were still closed when she leaned over to deposit a soft kiss on her unblemished forehead. The Commander responded with a drowsy smile. "You're going to need all your strength for the next challenge," Liara added in a tender, hopeful voice.

"Challenge? I'm going to tell the Alliance to go to hell," Shepard replied, her head lolling on the pillow. "Someone else can rid the galaxy of ancient alien evil for a change. I'm having a holiday."

Liara laughed nervously. "There is no ancient evil – just fatherhood."

"Fatherhood?" Shepard mumbled. Her eyes jerked open and went wide when she saw that Liara was standing in front of her. Her bondmate wore a traditional asari dress that clung to every curve of her body – including the gentle swelling of her belly. "You mean…little blue children?" Shepard asked incredulously. Although her entire body protested at the sudden movement, she propped herself up on her elbows and stared at Liara with wide, almost childlike eyes. Her gaze lingered over Liara like a caress. "Our little blue children?"

"Child," Liara corrected gently. "But yes, Evan. You're going to be a father..."

The first inkling Shepard had that something was wrong was when she saw something odd on the wall just behind Liara. The fabric of the wall was warped and shifting – almost as though there was a glitch in the very fabric that made up the solid mass. _No, this isn't a dream, she tried to tell herself. It's not-_

"Liara?" Her voice was thin...pleading.

She focused on her bondmate. The overwhelming happiness Shepard felt was suddenly replaced by an icy, cold chill throughout her body as Liara's gorgeous features twisted and melted from her face. When she tried to extend her hand, unseen hands clawed at her and dragged her downwards. Shepard fought. She tried desperately to cling to the dream, but the harder she tried the faster it slipped through her fingers...

* * *

 

**London, Earth**

The last time David Codrington had held a naked woman in his arms, the Reaper War had been nothing more than empty scare-mongering. It had been a lazy afternoon with Amanda at their home in Surbiton. The kids had been packed off to Amanda's parents in Dorset for the bank holiday weekend and he had nothing more important to do than make love to his wife and decide what kind of take-out they would have for dinner. He was looking forward to watching the Gunners play in what was sure to be a heated London Derby the following day.

The match had never been played and that afternoon now seemed nothing more than a dream he'd once had.

Codrington had since lived through every minute of the hell that had eventually descended on them. He was no soldier, but he'd struggled alongside those who were. While he was only ever a fair shot with a rifle, his engineering skills had been called upon throughout the war. Despite his efforts, the Reapers had taken everything from him. Amanda and their three kids had been killed in a single, devastating attack on the Dorchester survivor compound. All he had left was his own life. As meagre as it was, it was a life that Commander Shepard had saved.

"Christ!" Hardy whispered beside him, still rubbing his thumb over the dog tags he held in his hand. "She's supposed to be dead ain't she, Dave?" Shocked beyond belief, Hardy fell back onto his haunches and just sat there staring at the limp body that Codrington held. "Never saw it, but they say the Crucible went up like a flamin' Guy Fawkes bonfire."

"Well she's obviously not dead," Codrington replied. Although he regarded himself as a level-headed guy, he was at a loss as to the best course of action. A few seconds later, he was startled speechless when Shepard's eyelids fluttered open. Beyond the pale blue gaze, Codrington saw no trace of awareness initially. She blinked slowly several times. When the fog cleared, he thought he saw her frown in confusion. He found a quiet voice. "Commander? Commander Shepard?"

Her pale lips started to move ever so slightly. They jerked up and down as though she was struggling to make them work properly in order to form words. Eventually a thin whisper emerged, but the faint sound meant little to him. Codrington lowered his ear closer to her mouth so he could hear what she was trying to say.

The hoarse whisper barely carried even the short distance, but he could just distinguish the syllables. "Li…ara…T-" Codrington could sense the palpable desperation in her voice. "T'Soni. Li-"

Suddenly her eyes rolled back into her head. Her previously limp body stiffened and started to spasm uncontrollably. A series of awful gasping sounds escaped her mouth as she apparently struggled to draw a breath.

"Shit!" Hardy shrieked. "What the 'ell do we do?"

"Remain where you are, Mr Hardy." Codrington was still cradling Shepard's shaking body when he heard the unfamiliar voice behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see the Alliance captain, Prowse, bringing up his omni-tool. "This is Captain Prowse of the four-oh-second, I've got a situation at my coordinates. Send immediate back-up and medical evac…and I mean fucking immediate!"

Prowse dropped to his knees beside Codrington. His military first aid training recognised the symptoms of severe shock. "Give her some space!" he snapped urgently. "Get your medic in here stat and clear the rest of your people the hell out of here."

Codrington reluctantly lowered Shepard onto the packed dirt of the tunnel floor. Although the tremors had subsided somewhat, she was even paler and breathing in short, sharp gasps. When he hauled himself to his feet, he found his legs barely able to support his weight.

"And, Mr Codrington?" Prowse gave him a hard stare. "It would be in your best interests not to breathe a word of this to anyone. That applies to you and your pal there."

"But it's _Shepard_ ," Codrington pointed out in disbelief. "People will want to know!"

"Not a goddamn word, or you'll wish you had been Reaper fodder," Prowse replied in a strange tone.

Codrington merely nodded as he backed away from Prowse. Although the Captain had seemed normal enough during their brief initial interaction, he now found him to be intimidating. He did not doubt for one second that Prowse would draw the pistol he carried and shoot him if he refused to move. He cast one last, desperate glance down at Shepard. By now her skin had taken on a bluish tinge even as she continued to struggle for breath. Her black hair fanned out around her in the mud and the crystalline fingers of her left hand clawed at the mud beneath her.

"Hold in there, Commander Shepard," he whispered. "Earth isn't done with you yet."

* * *

 

**MSV _Steinbeck_**

Commander Ashley Williams arrived at semi-consciousness with the acidic taste of vomit in her mouth and the sensation that she was being dragged. Eventually a splitting headache also made itself known. The vomit taste was joined by smoke when she tried to draw a deep breath. She coughed violently and discovered that other parts of her body hurt as well. Her eyes opened slowly – at first she saw nothing but the smoke. With full consciousness returning, Ashley realised that she _was_ being dragged. Strong hands gripped beneath each of her armpits, hauling her roughly across a deck.

 _The Steinbeck_. Ashley tried to remember what the hell they had been doing on board the ship, but the only images in her mind were of naked, mutilated bodies. Entrails hung from their corpses like some sort of grotesque funerary arrangement. She desperately wanted to vomit again but she was too busy coughing and trying to breathe. When she tried to move her limbs, all she could manage were several weak spasms.

"Hang on…we're almost there, Ash."

 _That's Garrus._ It was Garrus who was dragging her. Some of her fear dissipated, but at the same time she saw a pair of pale eyes tinged with green. Something had been taunting her in the moments before she had lost consciousness. She could not remember who or what it was.

"Move faster!"

The urgent voice was Tali's. The quarian was somewhere up ahead of them. Ashley detected fear and strain in her voice, much as she had with Garrus' a few seconds earlier. Whatever the situation, it was bad. Ashley tried to remind herself that she was the commander of the _Normandy,_ and that she should be the one on her feet dragging crewmembers out of harm's way. Instead she was just a limp sack of meat, her armour steadily grinding on the metal of the _Steinbeck_ 's deck.

There had been a child. Ashley distinctly remembered the long blonde hair flowing and the fear that had subsequently gripped her entire body. Everyone else on the freighter had been brutally murdered; there was no way in hell she was leaving the little girl to die. As her memories returned with some clarity, she remembered her desperate struggles to move the crate aside so she could grab the kid.

It wasn't even a fucking kid. The pale green eyes that lingered behind Ashley's eyeballs had belonged to a V.I. In some fucked up pantomime, the thing had started laughing at her. Ashley remembered the disgust that had gripped her body as she realised that the _MSV Steinbeck_ was about to go nova and take her sorry carcass with it. It had been accompanied by the sharp stab of pain that came with the knowledge that she would not see Miranda again – not even to harangue her for not bothering to get in touch. Not to mention the fact that she'd ordered Garrus and Tali to leave her the hell behind.

"What the hell, Garrus?" Ashley choked. It was difficult for a limp sack of meat to sound authoritative. "I ordered you-"

"With all due respect, ma'am," Garrus replied.

It was all he needed to say. He'd taken a leaf out of Ashley's own damn book and thrown it in her face. Somewhere she heard EDI's voice locked into some sort of countdown. Ashley wished the A.I would shut the hell up. During her time in command of the _Normandy_ , Ashley had come to appreciate EDI as something _more_ than an A.I. She usually recognised the subtle, almost imperceptible nuances, in her voice - especially when she was referring to the loss of her mobile platform. It had been destroyed by a Brute during the Battle for Earth. Even though her program lived on within the _Normandy_ , EDI had effectively given her life to save Sam Traynor. However, as she counted down – probably toward their imminent deaths – she had never sounded so artificial and cold.

Garrus suddenly hauled her to her feet so he could lift her over the airlock seal that kept the _Normandy_ locked in a death-grip with the _Steinbeck._ Ashley pushed out feebly with her feet and managed to gain some sort of traction. With EDI's countdown ringing in their ears, the three of them made the last awkward, desperate scramble for the airlock. All were only too aware that making it off the ship before it blew was only half the challenge. They also needed time for the Normandy to get clear, else they, the crew and the ship would likely be torn apart as the _Steinbeck_ 's fusion plant went nova.

 _Getting your first command blown to hell? Not going to look good on your service record, Williams._ She was already having a bad day, it sure as hell didn't need to get any worse.

As soon as the away team was safely in the airlock, Tali slammed her fist against the controls to seal the Normandy behind them.

"Joker, get us the hell out of here!" Garrus barked as he lowered Ash gently to the deck. "Doc, we need you in the CIC stat!"

Although Ashley appreciated the sentiment, she felt fine. Even as Garrus hovered over her, she managed to shake her head stubbornly.

"You're going to be fine, Commander," he reassured her.

"I know," Ashley growled in response. "And I'm going to kick your spiny butt for disobeying a direct order."

The lack of clarity she had felt on the _Steinbeck_ was largely gone. The headache was still there, pounding between her ears like an assault rifle firing with a dirty barrel, but she could deal with it. It was just pain. What she couldn't deal with were her perceived failures as commander of the _Normandy_. The same thought was constantly running through her mind – what would Shepard have done?

She felt the distinct shudder throughout the superstructure of the _Normandy_ as the inertial dampeners failed to compensate fully for the freighter's explosion. Her heartbeat stopped for a few moments as the entire ship groaned against the external forces trying to tear it to pieces.

* * *

 

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2**

_{Hey, Commander, the next time you feel like giving me a challenge why don't you see how many hard-boiled eggs I can eat?}_ Joker's annoyed voice sounded over the comm. { _Just a suggestion, you know, instead of giving me ten seconds to make minimum safe distance from an exploding ship.}_

Ashley did not dignify Joker's blithe comment with a reply, otherwise the pilot would have been on the receiving end of a string of expletives more reminiscent of a drunken Terminus merc than a naval commander. Nevertheless, she was extremely pissed - both at the whole unpleasant incident with the _Steinbeck_ and herself. She had barely waited for Chakwas to give her the all clear before making her way down to the armoury to divest herself of her kit. Garrus and Tali followed closely. Despite the Doc's assessment of her physical condition, neither was convinced she was fine.

"Tali, I want a full report on the contents of the _Steinbeck's_ logs – any transcripts, diagnostics, anything that looks remotely out of the ordinary, and I want it goddamn yesterday!" Ashley barked at the startled quarian.

She practically launched her Valkyrie at the weapons bench. The rifle skidded and teetered on the brink of falling to the deck. A gentle nudge from Garrus ensured that it did not fall, but the action also reminded Ashley how close to losing it she was. A marine did not throw her weapons, regardless of how pissed they were.

Ashley lowered her gaze. "Who the hell makes a VI of a goddamn kid like that?" she asked no one in particular. "It's almost as though they wanted to take out any ship responding to the distress signal."

"Who would have the motives for such an attack?" Garrus shook his head. “The Galaxy is trying to rebuild-”

"Doesn’t mean there aren’t psychos out there," Ashley remarked more coldly than she had intended. "Get on it, Tali."

"Aye-aye, ma'am," Tali replied quickly.

Tali cast a quick glance towards Garrus, who responded with a reassuring nod. Ashley caught the movements out of the corner of her eye. She knew exactly what to expect when the Turian approached her quietly. Instead of waiting for him to speak, she held up a curt hand to indicate that she was not interested. She wasn't interested in personal reflection or a heart-to-heart, the only two things she wanted on her mind were a scalding hot shower and a glass of brandy – straight up, without a single goddamn rock.

 _{Commander Williams.}_ Ashley's entire body stiffened with dread and frustration. It was Traynor. _{There's an urgent encrypted communication for you via QEC.}_

"Liara?" Ashley asked hopefully as she halted the elevator. It was only now that the asari was on her mind that she realised how much they all needed her.

 _{No, the message has an Alliance signature,}_ Traynor replied.

 _Great, probably Admiral Hackett_ , Ashley growled inwardly. _Do I have to tell him I almost fried the Normandy?_

The image that manifested within the QEC a few minutes later was not the grizzled visage of Admiral Steven Hackett. Only a few minutes ago Ashley had felt hollow and numb, now the entirety of her being came alive within seconds. Her body responded predictably – at the same time her eyes widened in surprise, her skin bristled with nervous energy, and her core descended rapidly into the fierce throb of repressed sexual desire. Her emotional response however descended into a tangled gamut – from relief to anger. The slightly grainy image of Miranda Lawson stood in the centre of the QEC. Gone were the days of skin-tight cat-suits and waves of hair settling down around her shoulders. She was wearing an Alliance uniform, her hair was bound back into a lose ponytail and she looked almost as exhausted as Ashley felt.

Thankfully the mottled bruising across Ashley's face would not show up on the corresponding image that Miranda was seeing. She did not think that she could withstand Miranda's own brand of concern. Mostly it involved berating her for being clumsy enough to get wounded in the first place.

"How the hell did you get access to the QEC?" Ashley demanded. "And don't tell me you have permission either, because I can tell by that smug expression on your face that you don't."

Miranda's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. Her expression shifted to an indulgent smile. "It turns out that the comms officer in charge of the watch is a very lonely man."

Ashley scrubbed hard at her forehead with the pads of her fingers. "I don't have time for this, M."

"Come on, give me a little credit here, Ash. I have a five-minute window and I'll scrub the logs when I'm done." Ashley was about to interrupt when Miranda held up a curt hand. "Before you go giving me a lecture on why I can't operate how I damn well please in this chicken shit outfit, hear me out. I miss you…and I need to apologise for trying to make another excuse to get out of meeting your sisters. I have a week's leave between passing out of OCS and my first posting…maybe we can arrange a get together then?" Her tone shifted as she spoke, from defensive to hopeful as she finished and searched her lover's face for a reaction.

Ashley did not give anything away in response. "You're treading on thin ice calling the Alliance a chicken shit outfit."

"Seriously?" Miranda replied stormily. "I've made a meal out of every single one of the instructors on the fucking base. They've got officers trying to teach combat tactics who wouldn't know how to make use of a biotic Sentinel if their lives depended on it. I lie awake at night in one of those ghastly bunk beds and realise that there's nothing they can teach me."

"Humility?" Ashley offered.

Miranda's expression softened at her lover's quiet tone. She folded her arms over her chest defensively. "Not exactly an easy lesson for yours truly."

Shaking her head, Ashley felt her anger dissipate. "I know I've said all of this before but you don't have a bloody thing to prove to anyone – least of all to the Alliance...and certainly not to me." She knew she was revisiting well-worn ground. They'd fought for a solid three days about Miranda's decision to enlist. Granted she'd been immediately accepted into the Officer Candidate programme, but Ashley - the consummate soldier – did not believe that her lover was suited to a career built around discipline and following orders.

"I'm not at school with kids almost two decades younger than me to prove something to the Alliance...I have something to prove to myself," Miranda replied evenly. "All my life I've been set apart...and different. What if I don't want to be that woman anymore?"

Ashley almost snorted disparagingly before she caught herself. "That's the whole point, your talents...your gifts-"

"Count for absolutely nothing if I don't have the resources to use them," Miranda interrupted. "After the hell we've been through I want to give us every chance at living a real life. We can't do that if the Galaxy is falling to pieces around us. Are we seriously going to do this again, because I'd rather not waste this time rehashing arguments we've already had? So, your sisters?"

Ashley managed a small smile when she thought of the dozens of messages that had flooded her inbox when the Williams' sisters learned that her love life had taken a major detour. The initial disbelief had soon given way to incessant and somewhat intrusive questioning. “I’ll get in touch with the girls and set something up. Their curiosity is already through the roof."

"I'm looking forward to it." The tone in Miranda's voice clearly indicated that was not entirely true. She studied her lover's expression. "You look tired."

Ashley did not say anything in reply. Instead she sagged against the console in front of her. She pressed her palm against the edge until it was sure to leave an indentation.

"Ash," Miranda said softly. "Are you okay?"

Ashley shook her head. "Today was rough...incredibly rough. I'm not cut out to have my own ship, Miranda. A squad I can handle, but a whole damn ship? The _Normandy_ needs a commander, not some half-baked marine who starts vomiting at the sight of a little blood and viscera."

"Do I even want to know?" At Ashley's stubborn shake of her head, Miranda continued, "You're not _her_ , Ash. You need to stop this constant self-appraisal, trying to judge yourself against her standards isn't helping you to make the _Normandy_ yours. You'll never replace Shepard, but that doesn't make you any less capable of assuming her command. Give yourself a chance…and remember I'll be seeing you in two weeks."

"You're so damn bossy," Ashley replied petulantly.

"Guilty as charged." Miranda stared longingly at her lover for a few moments. "Give us a couple of days before you throw me to the mercy of your sisters, Ash, because I need you to throw me down somewhere – bed, deck…bare earth, I don't care. I want you to fuck me for hours on end until I'm nothing more than a puddle beneath you."

“I think we’re definitely on the same page with those thoughts,” Ash replied.

Miranda sighed wistfully and looked over her shoulder as though she thought she had heard something. "I need to go. I need time to scrub the logs, otherwise the brass will hear a little more than they needed to. So, go eat something, sleep…because you'll need all the strength you can get."

"Are you trying to give me orders, Second-Lieutenant Lawson?" Ashley asked as she lifted one eyebrow.

Miranda scowled. "You're never going to get tired of saying that, are you?"

"Nope. Now piss off before someone realises you've commandeered their QEC."

"I love you too, Williams."

* * *

 

**Location Withheld**

Dr Liara T'Soni woke to a soft glow falling across her face. Her eyes opened to see the spherical form of her V.I hovering at the foot of her bed. Save for the blue light radiating outwards from Glyph and a faint glow from the tank on the far side of the room, the rest of her world was in darkness. She stifled a slight groan as she peeled the covers away from her body and exposed herself to the cool air. The N7 t-shirt she wore did not ward off any of the chill that coursed through her bones.

"Dr T'Soni, it is now 0600 hours, your requested rising time," the info drone informed her in its self-important tone. "So it is," she said softly, speaking for the sake of hearing her own voice. She used it so infrequently these days that it never failed to sound odd to her ears.

Ignoring Glyph, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The icy cold shock that radiated upwards through the soles of her feet succeeded in completely shaking her free of sleep. Glyph continued to hover, spinning almost anxiously as she stood with the intention of making her way toward the shower. She had long since learned to ignore the vehement protests of her stomach first thing in the morning. Food could wait until she smelt slightly more respectable. _I'm not sure why you bother, T'Soni. There's no one here to smell your stench, let alone protest about it_.

Liara did not bother to turn on any lights, relying instead on Glyph's soft, blue glow.

"Several new messages were received during the night." The drone floated along behind her, even following her into the bathroom. When she turned, and regarded it with an annoyed expression, it merely bobbed up and down. "You may want to prioritise the one from Agent Vikos, it concerns the _SSV Normandy_."

 _The Normandy_. With her shower quickly forgotten, Liara instead made her way out of her small living quarters and passed into her work space. She did not bother waiting for Glyph, she knew every step by route. The intricate technology that made up the heart of the Shadow Broker's network had changed somewhat since it had been shoe-horned into a much smaller space on board the Normandy. Her bank of monitors was spread out in a semi-circle in front of a sophisticated HI console. Given that the Broker essentially never went offline, each monitor was currently occupied with a different element of her network. Liara ran her gaze over several, noting key developments, before turning her attention to the holographic interface at her fingertips. With a few rapid swipes of her fingers, she brought up Agent Vikos's message.

 _Attican Traverse. 0400 hours. Incident with civilian freighter MSV_ Steinbeck _._ Normandy _suffered minor damage, no casualties._

Vikos's rudimentary report indicated that he did not think the Broker would be overly concerned with the information. Although Liara had subtly tasked a dozen of her agents to monitor the _Normandy_ , she had given them no purpose beyond that – simple monitoring. None of them were to know that her interests went beyond mere information gathering into actual concern for the vessel. Although Liara had essentially disengaged from their lives, she could not simply sever her emotions. The crewmembers were her family.

She had been channelling Ashley Williams useful information for the past several months – just often enough to give her a sense that she was actively doing something to support her friends, not enough to make her feel as though she might as well have still been on board the _Normandy_.

Liara suppressed a shiver. It was bitterly cold but she delayed showering and eating until she had fired off messages to Vikos and several other agents within close proximity of the _Normandy's_ location. The shower that followed was perfunctory. She kept the temperature lukewarm lest she be tempted to linger beneath the faucet for more than a few minutes. If she allowed herself to close her eyes Liara knew that her mind would wander...and nothing good ever came of a wandering mind. She dressed warmly in one of her favoured black suits.

Her meal she ate mechanically standing in her small kitchen. Bread, cheese and cold meat were washed down with a glass of icy water. Liara had never cared for human food, but the simple fare was flavoursome and far superior to MREs or protein bars. With her relentless hunger sated for the time being, Liara filled a canteen of water and returned to her work station.

She was pleased to see that two of her agents had already responded with the requested information. She opened their messages and began to draw together the data to extrapolate the extent of the incident in the Attican Traverse. It would have saved Liara time and effort simply opening two-way communication with the _Normandy_ itself, but her stubborn adherence to maintaining the web she had woven around herself would not allow her even that small contact. Instead she continued to work from afar, utilising her resources as best she could.

The Shadow Broker's network had been vastly compromised in the wake of the Reaper War. Over seventy-five percent of her agents had simply gone off line. In most cases Liara did not know their fate – no doubt many would have perished in the war, others would have lost their own resources. Following Omega and her brief partnership with Aria T'Loak, Liara had spent the past five months painstakingly re-establishing and rebuilding the network. So far most of her efforts had reminded inwardly focused, but she was finally reaching the point where she was able to offer discreet support to key projects. It was merely a drop in the ocean but, in the quest to ensure that her life remained meaningful, Liara had to feel as though she was doing something.

Pausing only long enough to take small sips of water, Liara continued working until she lost all sense of time. At one point Glyph had attempted to raise the blinds and shed some light into her darkened world, but her curt response – a harsh growl as opposed to actual words - had sent the little info drone scurrying into a corner.

By the time Glyph emerged, Liara was beginning to develop a headache from staring at her screens for too long and her water had long since been drained. When she straightened her neck, it gave a very audible crack of protest.

"Dr T'Soni, you have been working for eight point five hours without nutritional sustenance," Glyph informed her. Had the drone been self-aware, no doubt it would have approached its task with something approaching trepidation. "It is highly recommended that you-"

Without pausing a beat, Liara simply powered down the drone's program. Glyph winked out of existence and she was left bathed in the light from her screens and the interface in front of her. She continued working until the headache eventually drove her backwards as though an invisible force was pushing her away from her work. Despite having reached a critical juncture in one of her analyses, Liara was desperately hungry. Once again, she ignored her instinct for food and instead chose to move into the largest room in her compound. For the first time that day, she brought up the lights, illuminating a largely vacant space. Located behind her workspace and living quarters, there were no windows out onto the world beyond. The floor, walls and ceiling were all bare thermocrete, the only signs that the room had any purposes were a series of projectors mounted on the ceiling. After bringing up the lights, Liara tapped a few more commands into the control panel. She paused for a few seconds, and then decided on 'programme 13.' As the main lights dimmed and a series of moving targets winked into existence, Liara felt a new sense of purpose descend over her mind. The headache was forgotten as soon as the first mass effect field danced on her fingertips.

When the first target rocketed toward her, Liara responded by throwing Warp, first one and then two more in rapid succession as the targets kept coming. She missed only one, it swooped in close but she forced herself into a diving roll to avoid it. And they kept coming, arcing towards her in a simulated combat that bore absolutely no resemblance to the gritty, bloody world of war that she knew intimately. However, this was all she had. Her exertions succeeded in creating a thin sheen of sweat over her body, quickly wicked away by her suit but it gathered on her forehead. Soon drops were sliding down over her temples and cheeks. Still Liara kept going, pushing herself without ever taxing her abilities. She had long since learned that, without real danger, she could only ever achieve a dull sort of exhaustion that left her sweaty and gasping for breath.

Liara wanted more. She hungered for the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, for the sound of screams filling her ears and the deeply satisfying noise created only by the sound of flesh being torn apart. Here in this lonely place the only sounds were the primal screams torn from her own throat as she pretended to fight. The only blood was violet, dripping from her knuckles where she had misjudged a punch and slammed her fist into the wall instead of a target...or at least that was what Liara tried to tell herself. The subsequent second, third and fourth punches could most definitely not be said to be such a mistake. It was only when Liara stared down at her bloody, raw knuckles that she acknowledged what she had done. She had a limited supply of medigel. It was for emergencies...not losing her temper.

With her wounded hand dangling limply at her side, Liara switched the program off and padded back out into the living spaces of her compound. She paused momentarily by the blinds. The thought that perhaps she should go outside and take in some fresh air seemed sensible until she realised that night would have long since fallen – shrouding her surroundings both in darkness and a claustrophobic cold.

Instead she chose to shower again. She lingered longer than she had that morning. It was oddly satisfying watching her blood run down the drain until even her lukewarm water ran out and she was punished with an icy blast.

Naked, with droplets of water threatening to freeze on her skin, Liara crossed to the chest in which she kept her clothes. This time her fingers instinctively went not to the drawer holding her suits, but to a small one at the top. Drawing in a deep breath, she slowly inched it open until she could see the soft grey material that lay within. Well-worn, it was faded in places, but the N7 logo on the right breast of the hoodie was still bright. Liara reached for it, gently running her fingers over the embroidery. Drawing in a deep breath, she burrowed her cold fingers beneath the garment. Her fingers touched the edge of the object that lay hidden beneath and she started to draw it out slowly. Liara froze when the frame was half way out. She could already see more than enough to know that she could not face the photo today. Hurriedly, she jammed it back beneath the hoodie and slammed the drawer shut.

The violent movement startled the little blob of yellow in the tank nearby - the only other living thing in the compound. Liara crossed the room and pressed the palm of her hand against the glass. Other than her own personal possessions and clothes, this creature was all she had taken from the Normandy. Horatio darted back and forth in front of the glass, blissfully unaware of the turmoil simmering beneath the skin of the shape on the other side of the glass. Liara scattered a small pinch of food into the tank. With his goal achieved, Horatio paid her no further attention.

With her skin icy cold, Liara turned to survey her world – made up of cold greys and utilitarian furniture. It was a meagre existence, but she told herself it was what she wanted. As she lingered in the silence, for a few awful seconds she felt the familiar burn of panic and grief starting to take hold of her body.

_"I love you, Liara. No matter what happens today, I'll always love you."_

With nothing more than an impressive display of willpower, Liara forced down the sob that attempted to escape from her throat. She had made the mistake of allowing herself too much time for reflection. She moved as though on auto-pilot. After throwing on a t-shirt, Liara made her way to the bed. As her ice cold limbs settled beneath the thick covers, her body began to warm. Before lying down, she reached across to the bottle at her bedside. She tipped one of the small, green capsules into her hand. After a moment's reflection, she added a second. Both were washed down in a single swallow of water.

Liara's head hit the pillow. The pills did their work and she entered a deep, dreamless sleep less than a minute later.


	2. A Magnificent Anachronism

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

In tearing free from her nightmare, Liara awoke with an anguished scream on her lips and a thin sheen of sweat covering her body. Her t-shirt was plastered to her torso, clinging to her chest in a manner that would have been titillating if there was anyone to stare at her.

As the echoes of her scream faded, the only sounds she could hear were the faint humming of the fish tank and her own gasps for air. Liara eventually slumped forward, her head falling into her hands.

Sweat soon cooled on her skin to the point where she was shivering uncontrollably. Still, she did not move. Instead, she lost herself in thoughts of the nightmare. It was the same one that had woken her for the past three nights. Her sleeping pills were supposed to suppress dreams, but for some reason they no longer granted her the oblivion she craved.

The routine that she had followed mechanically each morning for months usually brought a measure of comfort and normality. It was a technique she had always employed during her long months of isolation on a dig site. With strict adherence to times for waking, eating and working, she had always managed to stave off the irrational loneliness that others would have felt. Now it was an oppressive chain bound around her limbs. Her stomach craved food, but she did not want to go through the motions of eating. Nor could she work. There were no doubt dozens of messages waiting for the Shadow Broker, but she could not face the harsh glare of the screens. Even the promise of frenetic, mindless activity within one of her training programmes held no appeal.

Usually she felt safe within the thermocrete walls of her compound, but this morning the low ceiling seemed to press down on her body. The walls seemed closer together than they had the day before. Every dull grey surface was shrinking inwards at a rapid pace. Her heartbeat began to rise again.

Her actions became driven by the sole purpose of getting outside as quickly as possible. She dragged on a minimal amount of clothing over her chilled limbs and made her way to the double-sealed door that separated her from the world outside. Having deactivated Glyph the previous evening and with the blinds still down, she had no idea as to the weather or even the time of day.

_You're falling to pieces, T'Soni_ , she thought as she dragged on the heavy coat she kept by the door. _Fifty years working on isolated dig sites and you can't handle_ _a few months alone?_

Liara jammed her feet into a pair of boots and went to disable the security system so she could leave the compound. Her fingers trembled within the haptic interface, inputting the wrong code twice before she forced herself to slow her breathing and concentrate. The aggravatingly slow pace of the automatic door drove her to shove her shoulder against it and force her way outside.

_Space_. Although a biting cold immediately assaulted Liara through the clothes she wore, she eagerly embraced the world beyond her sterile home. Her boots made little sound on the soft earth beneath her feet, at least until she reached the shore of the lake and smooth rocks ground against one another as she stepped on them. Liara drew in a deep breath of bitingly fresh air. _Thank the Goddess. I can breathe again._

Her panic attack melted away in the face of the view laid out before her. The surface of the lake was a mirror, reflecting the surrounding riot of colours. From the vivid green of the closely packed fauna to the stark black and white of the peaks that hovered protectively above them. In every direction, the mountains were crowded and crushed together as though some cosmic power had driven them together with a crushing grip. Contrasted against this violence, the expanse of the lake created the illusion of infinite space. The stormy patchwork of clouds rolled by overhead – some were white, others a slate grey that usually heralded rain or snow.

It was scenery that encompassed an entire breadth of emotions – from anger to peace; from loneliness to intense fulfilment. As a whole, it offered a silent counterpart to Liara’s tortured emotions. She took several steps forward until the toes of her boots tapped against the surface of the lake. Ripples radiated outwards from the small contact – eventually dying as the lake swallowed them. She tapped her toes again, more ripples spread forth. Once again the ripples died and the lake returned to a seamless whole.

Liara ignored the cold and picked out a seat for herself on the fallen limb of a tree. It was slightly damp with dew, but she did not care. Overhead a nameless bird dipped and soared. Liara watched its flight, losing herself in the way it blended against the landscape around it. The bird belonged here, she did not.

In all truth Liara had very little knowledge of this small corner of Earth in which she unexpectedly found herself. Her perfunctory scans had revealed that the lake was a glacier formation from Earth's last ice age. Densely packed, almost impenetrable rainforests clung precariously to the steep slopes. Local wildlife was abundant but mostly consisted of small mammals and birds. It was quiet…almost painfully so.

Aria T'Loak had obviously appreciated the isolation of the place when it came to building her safe-house in the remote wilderness. Liara was also grateful for that fact, but unlike the Queen of Omega she could find solace and comfort in beauty. The knowledge that there were still small corners of the galaxy that had remained untouched by the war gave her a measure of peace.

A few icy drops from above suddenly splashed against her crest. The rain she had predicted earlier had arrived. Instead of retreating indoors, Liara titled her face skyward and closed her eyes. The heavy rain pelted against her bare skin. The water eventually began tracking down over her cheeks before dribbling off her jaw.

For a few blissful minutes, she could pretend that she was crying.

* * *

 

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2**

Throughout the day, Sam dutifully responded to an array of messages that arrived in her inbox. Most were of the mind-numbingly boring variety that required little thought. Some she had to flag for Commander Williams' attention, others she simply deleted after a perfunctory scan.

There was one message that stood apart. One she stubbornly ignored. It was the message she had been both anticipating and dreading for several days, yet it remained unread. Several times her fingers had made an awkward twitching motion on her interface, as though her subconscious was trying to open it. Once she even found herself with the message selected, her finger poised above the 'open' command. This hesitation lasted for almost two minutes before she jerked her fingers again and forced herself to open another window.

As the end of her shift neared Sam spent a full ten minutes simply staring at the message without opening it.

_Sam, you're being ridiculous. Just open the bloody message and stop wasting time in which you're supposed to be doing your job_.

Her shoulders sagged heavily. She was exhausted. Alongside most of the crew, she’d been pulling regular double shifts. Morale was low. The crew's promised shore leave looked like nothing more than a distant carrot dangling above their heads as they pushed themselves beyond the limits of endurance.

In the wake of the incident with the MSV _Steinbeck_ , the entire crew was on edge. The lives of their commander and two senior crewmembers had almost been lost for absolutely nothing. The speculation that the _Normandy_ itself had been the target was running rampant amongst the crew. No one performed at their best with a giant target painted on the hull of their ship – imagined or otherwise. As much as she respected their CO, Sam knew that Ashley was struggling to hold everything together.

With an air of decisiveness, Sam finally stabbed her finger on the message she had been avoiding. She groaned audibly when she realised that Lucy had taken the trouble to record a vid message. The auto-play function kicked in while Sam was too numb to stop it. Lucy's soft features emerged on screen. The Lieutenant looked incredibly tired…but also unmistakably happy. She was dressed in a white tank top and her hair was slightly mussed.

_{Hey, Sam…}_ Lucy suddenly paused following her initial greeting. She propped her elbows up on the table she was sitting at and rested her chin in her hands. Eventually she had to turn her gaze away from the feed as she continued, _{This has to be one of the most difficult messages I've ever had to leave. I'm not even sure what to say other than I'm sorry, but I'd be lying. How can I be sorry about something as precious as having Susannah alive and well? I honestly do like you, Sam. Your friendship was pretty much all that kept me going in those first months after the end of the war – after all that I had seen with...Shepard. Throughout all those games of chess I still maintain that the only games I won were the ones you let me win. I'll never forget what you did for me.}_ Lucy shook her head and finally looked back at the feed. Her dark brown eyes were luminous _. {This is probably stupid…you're probably thinking that I'm stupid for being so cut up about this, it's not like our relationship had even begun-}_

_Great, so now I'm stupid_ , Sam thought with an ache.

_{-before it ended.}_ Lucy sighed and a small grin swept across her face. _{It still feels as though it's a dream. Susannah doesn't remember a lot of what happened to her and I'm not surprise. Apparently, her hard suit remained intact when her fighter was destroyed. Her limbs were pretty burned up and she was unconscious when a rescue shuttle hauled her aboard. They were one of only three ships to make it clear of the Battle for Arcturus. Three. Although her suit sealed itself successfully they still thought she was going to die. She spent months semi-conscious and delirious…sorry, Sam, I'm not sure why I'm giving you the half-baked story when Suze could tell it a hell of a lot better. Listen, when you're next on Earth please get in touch. I'm looking forward to seeing you and Suze would love to meet you-}_

"Not bloody likely," Sam muttered to herself.

_{I'm so sorry it had taken me so long to send this damn message. I don't know…I guess I thought I was living in some dream world where I meant a lot more to you than I actually did. The offer of a picnic still stands…that is if I can get time off from my duties. There's so much to do, Sam, but I think the Alliance has stepped into the breach to hold humanity together. I'm recommending to my campaign manager that the_ Normandy _be taken off active duty to tour – you know, drive up morale and urge people to pull together-}_

Sam wasn't entirely sure she liked the idea of being part of a PR campaign. She also knew that Ashley would respond with her trademark 'with all due respect, sir' if it was suggested by the brass.

_{It's vital at times like this. Without the Alliance, we'd end up like the other systems. I've heard it's pretty bad out there. Pirates, anarchy, random massacres-}_

A frown creased Sam's brow. _Is it really that bad? I guess we are in a cocoon here on the_ Normandy.

_{Anyway, I've waffled enough and you're probably busy. Take care of yourself, Sam. I'm sure I'll see you soon.}_

The message ended and Sam was left staring at her console. She drew a complete emotional and mental blank for several minutes as she simply stood...staring.

After only a brief consideration, she deleted the message from Lucy. Seeing it gone from her inbox brought an instant feeling of satisfaction for about two point four seconds before she regretted her decision.

_Okay, breathe, Sam. You don't need to go back into the message logs and retrieve it…you're good. Breathe…_

"Traynor?"

_Breathe._

"Traynor!"

"Sh-" Catching herself before the entire expletive left her mouth. Sam turned around to find Commander Ashley Williams standing with her arms folded across her chest in an intimidating pose. Obviously having emerged from the elevator at the same time Garrus and Tali stood just behind her. It wasn't exactly an ideal moment to be caught up in her own thoughts, ignoring her CO. Sam snapped to attention. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I'm expecting an urgent call from Alliance HQ. When it comes through, can you let me know asap?" Ashley asked. She continued even as the trio started walking away. "I'll be in the conference room."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam nodded in response. As soon as the CO, Garrus and Tali had disappeared in the direction of the War Room, Sam turned and slapped her hand against the console in frustration. "Damn you, Lucy Park."

Sam's watch relief turned up five minutes later. As Williams had given her the detail, she sent the Yeoman away reluctantly. Her sleeping pod would have to wait. Thankfully the message came through less than ten minutes later…or at least Sam thought it was the message Ashley was waiting for. There was nothing to patch through, it was a terse communication from some colonel Sam had never heard of simply stating _Permission denied_.

_Oh bloody hell_ , Sam groaned inwardly. _I'm going to have to go in there._ _Whatever happened to the good old days when I could just tell Shepard there was an incoming call and be done with it?_

Sam passed Privates Campbell and Westmoreland in the security alcove, both gave her 'better you than me' expressions. She wasn't sure why they were so touchy about everything, although she speculated that it had something to do with the fact that she had been present when Miranda Lawson took them both down with one hand.

The conversation in the conference room came to an abrupt halt when Sam peered in nervously. She paused for a few moments, wondering whether Ashley wanted Garrus and Tali to hear the contents of the message.

"Traynor?"

Sam took a punt. "It said permission denied. No further explanation. Do you…want me to establish contact with HQ and ascertain-"

"Shit," Ashley hissed as she slammed her balled up fist on the table. Sam immediately stopped talking at the harsh tone. The Commander eventually sighed in resignation and shook her head. "Well that's the end of that. Mission's scrubbed."

Garrus' mandibles twitched in agitation. "Commander, if we don't act now we'll lose their trail altogether. They were using a stolen ship as it is. Think about it, the intel strongly suggests that they were targeting the _Normandy_ specifically. Vengeance for the 300,000?"

Ashley nodded. "Bahak…I know, Garrus. I agree with you, we should pursue…but HQ obviously feels otherwise. My hands are tied on this-"

"They were targeting the _Normandy_!" Garrus repeated. "The three of us were almost killed…the ship destroyed. Whoever is behind this is a very clear threat, we need to eliminate-"

"Whoever is behind this being the operative words in this scenario!" Ashley's frustration was evident in her voice. "We could spend weeks traipsing around the Traverse…maybe even the Terminus Systems before we catch a whiff of those bastards. As a Spectre, I'd love nothing more than to hunt them down, but we have other priorities."

"Like looking out for _human_ colonies… _human_ interests," Garrus suggested pointedly.

"That's unfair, Garrus!" It was the first time that Sam had heard Tali add her opinion to the conversation. "Everyone is stretched. The Alliance are doing the best they can."

"And how much aid have they given to Rannoch? To Palaven?" Garrus demanded.

"Garrus, this isn't you," Tali admonished. "If not for Shepard's efforts, you would never have had Krogan troops on Palaven. You owe the Alliance...you owe Shepard."

Garrus appeared slightly mollified, he looked away for a moment to bring himself under control. Sam saw his fingers ball into large fists and knew that he was struggling. For the first time, she began to wonder if she could make a discreet exit from the conference room even though Ashley had not dismissed her.

"My apologies, Commander. It's just that I have a bad feeling that this will come back to bite us in the ass." Garrus gave his CO a level stare. "If Shepard were here she would have-"

"If Shepard were here she would have what, Vakarian?" Bitterness was evident in Ashley's tone. "We don't know what the hell Shepard would have done in this situation because she's _dead!_ She doesn't get to experience the _peace_ that her death won us." As Sam suppressed a slight gasp, Ashley suddenly lowered her gaze. A few moments later she sighed wearily. "The discussion is over. Archive all files relating to the MSV _Steinbeck_. I don't want any more time wasted on this matter. Understood? You're both dismissed."

_And me?_ Sam thought hopefully. _Or was I supposed to have slipped out after delivering the message? Shit, does the Commander even know I'm still standing here?_

Garrus responded with only a stiff nod, whilst Tali circled around the table to lay a gentle hand on Ashley's shoulder. Sam did not know what the quarian was trying to convey, but she saw Ashley respond with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Tali and Garrus left together, both moving past Sam as she searched their faces for some hint of whether she ought to join them. Garrus merely shrugged. Sam looked desperately over her shoulder as they left, looking away only when she saw Garrus reach out to take Tali's hand in his own.

_Okay, still standing here_ , Sam thought as she turned back to face Ashley. "Um…ma'am?"

"Permission to speak freely, Traynor," Ashley said without lifting her gaze.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am?" Sam was quite sure she hadn't asked the necessary question in the first place.

"Do you always have to be so damn polite?" Ashley smiled sardonically. "I'm giving you permission to tell me what a crap job I'm doing. It's a rare opportunity to let your CO know exactly what you think, so I'd take it if I were you."

Sam didn't think she was being polite. Regardless of her current state of mind, Ashley was her CO. As a Specialist, she was so far down the food chain that just thinking disrespectful thoughts about an officer made her slightly nervous. Of course, that wasn't to say that Sam wasn't a polite person, her parents had raised her well, but she did resent the implication that she was incapable of speaking her mind.

"No," Sam replied abruptly. "You want me to tell you what a crap job you're doing as some sort of…of vindication for your behaviour. I stand here and give you a piece of my mind, letting you know exactly what I think of your leadership qualities and your failure to live up to expectations. Meanwhile you stand there and listen, feeling like shit, and wallowing in a mind-set of your own creation. Well I won't give you what you want, _ma'am_."

Ashley was inscrutable. "And why not?"

"Because you're not doing a crap job." Sam sometimes surprised herself with her own powers of articulation. _Crap job? Is that a technical term?_ "And every crewmember on this ship would agree with me. I was in command of the _Normandy_ for about ninety minutes, and that was eight-nine minutes too many. You've held this ship…and its crew together for over five months without leave, you haven't lost a single man and the _Normandy_ has barely suffered a scratch. I'd say you're doing a bloody good job, Commander."

Sam's words finally earned a reaction. Ashley's shoulders sagged slightly. "But Garrus-"

"Is clearly as stressed as you are. As much as he and Tali want to remain on the _Normandy_ , they have their own homes to consider. Neither of them has been home for months. Garrus' hasn't seen his sister. Tali desperately wants to join her people on Rannoch-" Sam bit her lip. She knew it wasn't her place to fill Ashley in on the personal lives of her crew. "You should talk to them, ma'am."

"It's Ash, Sam. We're off the record," she replied quietly, straightening a little. "And thanks for the advice. I might even take some of it into consideration."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You damn well better."

Ashley managed a small smile. "How do you feel about scotch?"

"Huh?" Sam frowned.

"I'm inviting you to drink with me," Ashley explained. "I think your answer is supposed to be 'ma'am, the Specialist loves scotch, ma'am!"

"Then…that’s my answer.” _Do I like scotch?_ “I'd love to join you for a drink, Comman-…I mean, Ashley. Thank you."

"Too polite, Sam…too damn polite." Ashley shook her head in mock disapproval.

* * *

 

**Undisclosed Location**

" _You're going to be a father..."_

As she slid in and out of consciousness it became more difficult to focus on the dream. It had initially felt so real that she thought it _was_ her reality. Then it was gone, yanked cruelly out of her grasp as she was dragged back to the hell of her physical body.

Every simple act was an exercise in torture – from opening her eyes to drawing in a breath. She had been staring up at an unfamiliar face - a heavy-set man with thinning red hair and sympathetic green eyes. Something in his gaze told her that she could trust him and so she tried to speak. Only whispers emerged, barely sounds let alone words. It was vital that she get the name out, but it was becoming increasingly difficult just to breathe.

When she woke again the kind-eyed man was gone, replaced by pure-white nothingness. Everything was still difficult and painful, which ordinarily would have indicated that this was real. Then again, she had been mistaken once already. Opening and closing her eyes came easily. She did this several times until her vision focused. Instead of nothing, she found a white ceiling above her. Tilting her head a fraction left and right confirmed that it was a white ceiling in a white-walled room. There were no variations in colour other than the bank of machines next to her bed. The pumps, monitors and fluid stations were appropriately coloured in bland greys with haptic readouts that hurt her eyes to stare at.

Her first instinct was that she was utterly alone and this unnerved her more than her pain or the stark white room. Unlike the dream, she found that she could move her hands and feet at will. After testing each experimentally and determining her strength, she forcefully willed herself into a sitting position. A sharp cry of effort escaped her lips and the white room spun wildly for several moments. Her heart hammered in her chest as though she had been running. When she slumped forward, strands of dark hair fell in lengths over her face. With agonisingly slow movements, she reached up to run a hand through her hair. It trailed down over her shoulders.

A flash of remembered conversation accompanied the movement. _"You're a butcher, T'Soni."_

There were tubes connected to her arm. They snagged on something as she moved her arm and a sharp pain went shooting up her arm. Her hand fell. She studied the two tubes protruding from her arm. Eventually she grew bored of watching the fluid move along the tube. The fingers lay pale and thin but very ordinary in comparison to those of her left hand which were _white_. When she moved it she realised that the hand wasn't simply white. The harsh lighting in the room reflected the crystalline formations that covered the skin of her entire left hand and forearm. It joined with her natural skin at the elbow in a mottled effect that made the skin look diseased and patchy. With trembling fingers, she reached across to touch the growth. She gasped at the first contact. It was ice cold to the touch and as smooth as marble. The white fingers twitched slightly, but the touch did not register as it should have. Although she could feel herself touching the arm, it felt distant and removed from her own body. She scratched at the surface, but it was impenetrable.

"What...th-"

It was too difficult to make her voice work. Her words rasped in a dry throat. She clutched at her forehead with the natural fingers of her right hand while the foreign appendage lay in her lap as though discarded.

There were memories scattered throughout her mind but any sort of overall cohesion remained elusive. As she struggled to try and make sense of what had happened, part of the white wall suddenly moved, sliding to reveal a door. A few moments later, her entire world was jarred by the appearance of a smiling woman wearing an Alliance science uniform. Shepard did not recognise her. However, when she opened her mouth and spoke -

"Hello, Shepard."

\- the two simple words set a flurry of chaotic scenes in motion.

" _Have I told you how much I love you?"_

" _Are you trying to give me a heart attack, T'Soni?"_

_"Even if you are honorary Krogan, you're still a pale, squishy little human. If anything happens to you, the wife would never forgive me."_

" _Fuck appropriate. Is it going to be more appropriate when we're out in the open fighting Reapers? I want you to kiss me, Commander Shepard."_

" _Like any family, you're a pack of goddamn arseholes…but I wouldn't be standing here without you. If I had my way, none of you would be following me in this madness, but I know I don't stand a chance in hell of getting to that Crucible alone."_

" _You reckless...obtuse..fool!"_

" _We're cut off from the Crucible. Someone has to take down that fucking Reaper or this whole show is over."_

" _For the love of the Goddess let me go! Please Evan...Evan!"_

" _Your scars...and your eyes...they're um...they're glowing red."_

" _I've already broken my promise to her, help me save her life. Liara...she's my everything."_

As the memories came flooding back, so did her identity - _Commander Evangeline Hannah Shepard, Alliance Marine Corps_... _and human battery for the Crucible_. Shepard started to run her right hand over the accessible skin she could see. It was smooth, unblemished. With a frown, she dragged open the medical gown she wore. Where there had once been a hideous tangle of scars across her chest, there was only her own pale skin. She pressed her fingers against the skin of her face, searching frantically for the scars she had carried for almost a year. There were none.

"Wha...happened?" Shepard whispered.

"You were missing for six months," the other woman replied cautiously. "We are still unsure how exactly you survived-"

"Who are you?" There were so many questions flooding her mind that they overlapped. She turned to look at the woman and analysed her in a perfunctory manner - blonde hair, what appeared to be green eyes, slim...attractive. None of it mattered, all Shepard wanted were answers.

"Dr Naomi Stone," the woman replied calmly. "Please call me Naomi. How do you feel, Evan?"

"Like shit.” Shepard muttered, plucking at the tubes impaled in her arm. It still hurt to speak and she desperately wanted a drink, but she was reluctant to ask this woman for anything. "Missing? For six months? I remember...I was inside the Crucible with my heart skewered. Then the fucking thing blew up, and now I'm lying here without a scratch on me."

"I'm afraid I cannot explain-"

"I need to see Liara T'Soni. Surely she knows I'm alive. Is she already here?" Shepard demanded. "Wherever there fuck _here_ is."

"Shepard, we've attempted to locate Dr T'Soni-"

"What do you mean _attempted to locate_?" _Why can't I get a single answer out of this woman?_

In her anger, Shepard's trembling fingers closed over the tubes impaled in her arm. With a severe tug, she jerked both free and tossed them to one side. Ignoring the trickle of blood that followed, Shepard forced her body over the side of the bed. Her legs refused to cooperate. With little strength in her muscles, they immediately gave way and she fell hard.

"Shepard! We're trying to help you.”

Dr Stone's voice was tinged with concern – real or artificial, Shepard could not tell. The woman was difficult to read.

There was absolutely no dignity to be found in the manner in which Shepard clawed her way across the slick floor. Nor did she know what she was trying to achieve. Shepard pressed her body into the corner of the white room, wedging her back against the solidity of the wall behind her.

When she turned, she saw others in the room in addition to the blonde doctor. Shepard identified another scientist and an Alliance soldier, a holstered pistol at his waist. All Shepard could do was drag her emaciated legs to her chest as a sort of makeshift shield. She wrapped her arms around them, still loathing the feel of her artificial limb as it touched her skin.

"Now, Shepard..." The male scientist took a few hesitant steps forward. He kept his hands raised in an attempt at a placating gesture. "You need to calm down before we can help you."

Shepard narrowed her eyes as she studied him – thin with balding dark hair and a ridiculous attempt at a moustache above his thin lips. There was absolutely nothing about his simulated sympathetic expression that she trusted. Nor did she trust Dr Stone, regardless of her claim that they were trying to help her.

"You keep saying you're trying to help me." Shepard's throat felt like sandpaper. "I want to see Liara T'Soni."

"As I was saying, Evan," Dr Stone said gently. "We have been unable to-"

"Bullshit!" Shepard spat. The sudden escalation in tone distressed her throat. "If Liara knew that I was alive, then she would be here already. Which clearly indicates that you haven't made any effort to contact her or even broadcast news of my survival. Which leads me to the question of why the fuck are you hiding me?"

Stone cast a quick, worried glance across at her colleague. In that instant Shepard saw something flicker in his eyes that only heightened her distrust. What she did not understand was why Alliance personnel seemed to have no interest in trying to contact her bondmate or indeed confirming that Commander Shepard had survived the destruction of the Crucible. A dozen possibilities entered her mind, but none seemed to make any sense.

Shepard tried a different tact. "At least let me talk to Admiral Hackett...or Anderson?"

Another flicker, another strange reaction. The growing sense of anxiety in Shepard's gut became full on dread. Keeping her movements as casual as possible, Shepard pressed the palms of her hands against the floor. At full fitness she could carve a path straight through both scientists and reach the armed soldier without raising a sweat. She cursed her frail condition, knowing she would be lucky to stand let alone move quickly enough. Shepard was extremely tired. All she wanted was to go to sleep with the knowledge that Liara knew she was alive. Clearly that was too much to ask for.

Both scientists were staring at her intently when Shepard's eyes suddenly rolled back in her head and her limp body slumped to the cold floor. Her limbs spasmed in jerky, uncontrolled motions.

"I told you she was about to crash, Stone!"

"It's Shepard. We don't know how the hell she'll react to anything for god's sake, Heller. You...Corporal, help us get her back onto the bed," Stone ordered. "Careful with her or you'll-"

Stone was cut short as she found herself flailing backwards following a shove to her chest. The corporal who had been attempting to lift Shepard by her armpits now found himself staring down the barrel of his own Predator.

"Back the fuck up," Shepard hissed. "All three of you."

"Shepard-" Stone began.

"Shut-up." It took every effort for Shepard to keep both the tone of her voice firm and the weapon from trembling in her grasp. Already the relatively light Predator felt as though it weighed a ton. "You're going to bring me someone I recognise - T'Soni, Ashley Williams, Admiral Anderson...I don't care. I just want to see the face of someone I don't suspect to be a lying snake."

"Or what, Shepard?" Heller asked, annoyance was creeping into his thin voice. "I hardly think you're capable of shooting your way out of here."

"Probably not, but I will be able to shoot you so-called doctors and Corporal Cheese-dick over there. I want answers from someone I trust!" Shepard demanded. Her heartbeat was once against hammering wildly. She tried to calm herself, knowing that she would crash for real if she could not bring her heart-rate under control. The brief burst of exertion when she had taken the Predator had taxed her severely, sapping what little strength she did have. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Calm down, Evan," Naomi Stone pleaded. "You're dehydrated and incapable of thinking rationally. You're pointing a weapon at unarmed SA personnel. This isn't you."

Shepard was unfazed. "How the hell do you know what I'm capable of?"

"Evan-"

Her placating tone failed as Shepard snapped, "Don't fucking use my first name like you know me!"

The Predator began to waiver slightly. Shepard's heart was beating so fast she was on the verge of passing out. Throwing in the towel was not an option. She needed answers, but even more she needed Liara.

"This is absolutely ridiculous," Heller scoffed. "I want a marine detail in here immediately, someone put this crazed woman down before she shoots herself in the foot!"

Drawing in one even breath, Shepard gentled squeezed the trigger. The Predator jumped once in her hands. The retort sounded like thunder within the confined space. Heller froze, the blood having drained from his face to render his skin almost white. The Alliance insignia on his sleeve had been seared off with almost perfect precision.

"Go ahead...tell me I missed," Shepard whispered. Her entire body sagged with fatigue and she could not even bring herself to care about the insanity of her own actions.

Shepard heard heavy bootfalls beyond the door. Less than a second later three armed marines filed into the room in perfect tactical formation. Each carried an assault rifle, levelled with intent in her direction. Shepard did not lower the pistol in her own hand.

"Stand down, marines!" a voice sliced through the tense silence in the room.

The Predator in Shepard's hand trembled and almost slipped from her grasp altogether when Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard forced her way through the marines. She moved past both Heller and Stone, stopping only a metre short of her daughter. The pistol twitched.

_I'm pointing a gun at my mother_ , Shepard thought in disbelief.

Hannah Shepard looked as though she had aged at least five years since Shepard had last seen her. Her previously long hair had been cut into a neat bob, with more grey strands than Shepard remembered. Her mother looked tired in every sense of the word, even her perfect posture appeared to have deserted her as her shoulders slumped.

"Evie." Hannah's face creased into a reassuring smile. "You're still very sick, honey. These people are only trying to help. You need to let them do their jobs."

Although she did not trust Heller or Stone, Shepard lowered the pistol – as much a result of exhaustion as her mother's presence. It was no longer just her hand that was trembling. Her entire body was gripped by crippling spasms of pain. Her efforts to hold herself upright failed and she slumped to her knees. Hannah surged forward and managed to catch her as she fell, cushioning her fall.

"Mum what the hell is going on here?"

"Hand over the gun, sweetie," Hannah said gently, her tone perfectly calm despite the situation.

"I need to see Liara," Shepard pleaded. "These morons say they don't know where she is. I think they're lying."

"Evie, you need to calm down, hand over the gun and I promise you I will personally do everything I can to bring Liara to you."

"I've been missing for six months. Six fucking months!"

Even as Shepard spoke, the pistol slipped from her grasp. Hannah caught it before it fell to the floor. Wordlessly she handed it butt first to the Corporal standing behind her as her daughter finally relaxed and sagged into her arms. Hannah closed her eyes. She could not remember the last time she had held her daughter in such an intimate manner. _She was five years old. She'd skinned her knee running on the tarmac at some airfield on Earth. All she wanted to do was see the fighters..._

A rough hand suddenly grabbed Hannah by her upper arm and pulled her away from Evan. Hannah could only move aside as two marines pushed past and seized her limp daughter, forcing her roughly to the floor.

"Mum!"

The cry was plaintive, desperate. It was enough to drive Hannah close to tears. Dr Stone reached out a hand to help her to her feet. She straightened almost immediately, smoothing out the creases in her uniform as she stared at Evan still trying to fight back. "They're only trying to help you, honey."

Shepard could no longer see Hannah. All she saw was the red rage of betrayal. Even as she fought against the hands that held her, Shepard could not believe that her own mother was letting them treat her in this manner. Fingernails dug cruelly into her skin as she struggled. Then Heller's sneering face loomed over her.

"Listen to me very closely. You're officially dead. You're not _The_ Shepard, you're not even _Commander_ Shepard, you're dead. You know what that means? We can do whatever we like to you."

Shepard felt the sharp stab of a needle pierce her skin and her attempts to struggle grew weaker.

"Li-" The whisper left her lips but all she could see as her vision folded in on her was Heller's sneer. _What kind of hell have I woken into?_

"You know, Shepard..."

Heller was still talking as the drugs lulled her toward the darkness of unconsciousness. She fervently wished she had strength enough in her arm to ram the palm of her hand into his nose.

"I once heard that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He was supposed to win it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country. I guess that makes you the dumbest bastard of them all."


	3. And the Present is Trivia

**Macapá, Brazil**

_Of all the circumstances you could possibly be in at this point in your life, this is by far the most humiliating,_ Miranda Lawson told herself as she slithered through the thick, cloying mud on her belly. Her keen hearing picked up the sound of a weapon tapping against the ceramic plates of a hardsuit up ahead. She instinctively ducked her head. The movement earned her a mouthful of mud. She could not even spit it out for fear of making a sound. _The Alliance might have let you stay on the_ Normandy _but you didn't even ask. You could have had relative comfort, reasonable hours and edible food, not to mention a live-in lover._ Whoever it was moving up ahead was doing a lousy job of remaining concealed. Miranda could hear not only the sound of movement, but also hoarse breathing of someone who was either out of shape, or terrified. _But no, instead you volunteered for this existence - crawling on your stomach through filth, being yelled at by meat-heads and living in a fucking communal bunkhouse._ Every night she collapsed on her rack, exhausted and far too close to a snoring recruit to even contemplate relieving the dull ache that crept between her legs when she thought about Ashley for more than ten seconds. _This hell is self-inflicted, Lawson._

With excruciatingly careful movements, Miranda manoeuvred her rifle into a firing position. It was only when she trained it at the head for a killing blow that she caught the red flashes on the helmet and realised that the lousy excuse for a soldier was supposed to be on her team. If it had not already done so, the way he was crashing through the undergrowth was sure to attract enemy attention. Miranda had already scoped out a Blue team pocket less than a dozen metres to the right of her position. Deciding that she could risk warning him, she levered herself out of the mud and rolled behind the scant protection offered by a nearby tree.

"Fisher!" she hissed in a low voice. "Get down!" The recruit's head jerked from side to side gormlessly as he searched for the source of the sound but he made no attempt to seek cover. Miranda growled inwardly and peered around the side of the tree so he could see her. "Fisher!"

The burly recruit's face broke into a relieved smile when he saw her. "Lawson? Thank fucking god. I thought I was out here on my-"

His shoulder was suddenly whipped backwards by the force of an electrical slug slamming into the training suit. Fisher was knocked down, his face contorted with pain as the jolts surged through his body. While the pain wasn't agonising, the practice slugs were supposed to incapacitate a recruit in a realistic manner. Fisher was currently rolling around in the mud, squealing as though he'd taken a real hit.

"Christ, is this shit supposed to hurt like this?" he demanded, clutching at his arm.

_Fuck._ The bleating fool was going to bring the entirety of Blue team down on top of them in a matter of seconds. Barred from using her biotics or tech powers within the training scenario, Miranda unloaded several slugs in the direction from which the shot had originated. She then scrambled forward and seized Fisher by the most accessible handhold available – the rim of his helmet. She dragged him backwards through the mud, hardly caring that the chin strap was probably digging into his flesh. As she moved, she cursed both Fisher and the Blue team meat-heads for being such crap shots. If they'd scored a killing blow in the first place, then she could have left Fisher shrieking in the mud and moved position without being detected.

"This is your fault, you stupid bitch!" Fisher accused. "You gave away my position!"

Miranda did not even dignify his accusation with a response as she dragged him behind a solid outcrop of rock. When she lifted her head and scanned for pursuers, several slugs passed overhead. She brought up her omni-tool. "This is Red five, Red nine is down in sector two. We're still half a klick west of the objective. Request fire support two points north of my position."

Less than ten seconds later, heavy electrical rounds suddenly crashed down practically on top of Miranda and Fisher's cover. With a flurry of expletives on her lips, Miranda dragged the other marine down a steep slope to their right, sliding several metres before they splashed to a halt in a stream bed.

Miranda turned to Fisher. "Okay, it's a flesh wound in your arm, you can walk," she informed him with cold efficiency. "I'm getting you back to our lines and finding out what the hell Mitchell is doing with this squad before we're cut to ribbons."

"It hurts!" Fisher protested.

For a moment Miranda felt sorry for him. The kid was barely eighteen, puppy fat still clinging to his saggy jowls. He'd lost most of his family when the Reapers hit the bread basket of the American Midwest. Then her mouth set into a grim line of determination. No one could afford to be that young or that soft anymore.

"On your feet, soldier!" she hissed in his face. It was then that she realised that Fisher wasn't carrying his assault rifle. "Where's your weapon?"

Fisher glanced around and eventually shrugged. "Dunno, must have lost it."

Miranda groaned yet again. _You chose this life, Lawson._ "Get going, I'll cover us."

Half an hour later, with Fisher's asthma starting to act up, Miranda prodded his sorry arse over the make shift barricade around Red team's stronghold. The kid collapsed, wheezing and demanding a drink of water from his squadmates. Although her own physical conditioning was exemplary, Miranda was nevertheless drained from having to lug Fisher's heavy-set body when he tried to give up. She could feel sweat making tracks through the dried mud on her face as their Squad Leader approached with a stormy expression on her face. Lisa Mitchell undoubtedly had potential, unfortunately she let her arrogance get in the way all too often. Mitchell's arrogance was only exceeded by Miranda's own, but she was close to perfection- the other recruit was not.

"Where the hell is the rest of my scout team?" Mitchell demanded.

"Probably escorting themselves off the battlefield as KIA," Miranda replied in acidic tones. "That lump you assigned as sub-team leader led them straight into opposition lines. I suggest reviewing your strategy to incorporate a little creativity instead of something you've learned out of the manual-" Miranda cut herself short, realising that her own attitude was not conducive to a productive squad relationship. She brought up a map of the terrain on her omni-tool. "Okay, I managed to get a good look at their positions…here, here and here. Blue's properly entrenched, their position's too static. I suggest if half the squad use this approach…here, we'll be able to flank them and drive them straight into the rest of the squad.

"Flushing movement?" Mitchell's eyebrows lifted hopefully.

"Precisely," Miranda agreed.

Mitchell grinned. "Okay, Lawson, you've got the flanking team. Let's show these Blue bastards that Red isn't going down without a fight."

* * *

 

Several hours later, Miranda was so exhausted it was all she could do to cling to the side of the M35 Mako as it made its way back towards their base. Overhead the sun had dipped low, casting long shadows on the ground. They'd been at manoeuvres since the previous morning – thirty-eight hours without sleep and only a couple of protein bars to eat. However, the mood was quietly jubilant. Three more days – mostly consisting of formalities – and they would pass out of OCS. While Miranda was under no illusions that her new career would be easy post-graduation, she did at least hold out hope of doing something worthwhile.

And there was the prospect of an entire week's leave with the incredibly enticing Commander Williams. That was an incredibly pleasant thought.

"Hey, Lawson?"

Miranda was interrupted mid-daydream. She turned to see Mitchell looking toward her expectantly from the other side of the Mako. Sweat had plastered the recruit's hair to her head. With her helmet off and much of the dirt scrubbed from her face, Mitchell looked impossibly young.

"I never thanked you for today," the recruit admitted in a staunch voice. "Or any other day for that matter. From the start, I thought you were this high and mighty bitch, but…I've learned more from you than most of the instructors on this damn course."

With a small smile on her face, Miranda inclined in head in acknowledgement. "Thanks, Mitchell. You were right about one thing all along though...I am a bitch."

As Mitchell and a few of the other recruits laughed at Miranda's comment, the woman herself found a spot where she could lie back against the Mako's accelerator cannon and closed her eyes. The gentle whine of the engine and the relatively flat terrain as they neared base lulled her into a half-slumber.

"Lawson?" It was another of the recruits sitting immediately to her right. Miranda cocked an eye open to show that she was listening reluctantly. "Can you tell us about The Shepard? I mean, we hear all these stories in the news…but it's so…manufactured. We all know that you served on the _Normandy_. You knew her. What was she really like?"

"Do you think it's fucking story time, Ward?" she asked wearily. While it was no secret that she had been on the _Normandy_ during the Battle for Earth, the rest of her past – Cerberus, the Lazarus Project, the Suicide Mission – was classified behind a mountain of red tape. At the start of OCS Miranda had been approached on several occasions with curious recruits asking questions about _The Shepard_. 'Fuck off' was the politest of her responses. As she stared at Ward's earnest expression, and those of the other recruits, she relented with a small sigh. "Firstly, stop calling her that-"

" _The_ Shepard?" one of the recruits piped up.

Miranda glared. "Yes, her name is Shepard…" She paused as she dwelled on her use of the present tense. Her name _was_ Shepard. Did it matter? Nothing would change the fact that she was dead, but more than a part of Miranda wanted to hold onto her as she was in life. "The last thing Shepard would have wanted is a title, firstly because it singles her out as some sort of hero and secondly because it makes everyone else around her sound like a flock of sheep. She would have been the first to admit that she didn't do anything alone."

Everyone was staring at her. Listening eagerly. _You're drawing far too much attention to yourself, Lawson_ , she scolded. Still, it felt good to talk about Shepard. She'd tried with Ashley, but the marine always withdrew from the conversation – preferring to be silent rather than risk breaking down.

"All the recruitment posters show her looking really serious," Mitchell piped up. "Did she ever smile?"

The SA recruitment posters were holographic advertisements employing young people to join up and help restore humanity in the wake of the Reaper War. Some featured Shepard alone, others depicted her leading a squad of human soldiers. The latest series that had emerged even used Ashley as one of their poster-soldiers – a fact which led to a string of expletives when her lover found out. _"They've made me look like a fucking vid actor. Look at the size of my tits! Not to mention the fact that I'm carrying a Mantis in one of them…a piece-of-shit Mantis. When Vakarian finds out, he's going to have a field day!"_

Miranda eventually shrugged. "She was serious…and also, at times, pig-headed, stupid and emotionally stunted – your typical marine." Laughter followed. Miranda had to grin along with them. She had too many memories of Shepard being all of those things, often at the same time. "Occasionally she could be a sanctimonious arsehole…but she had a wicked sense of humour. And she looked stunning in an evening dress."

"Seriously, Commander Shepard wore an evening dress?" Ward asked incredulously.

"I don't think you'll find those particular images anywhere on the extranet," Miranda added. "Shepard had them expunged from the _Normandy's_ records." _And Kasumi probably took the rest to her grave._

"I heard rumours she was involved with that asari…what was her name?" Mitchell began.

Two recruits replied at once, "Liara T'Soni."

Mitchell nodded. "That's her…part of the original _Normandy_ crew. Is that true?"

It was a simple enough question, but one that Miranda did not know how to respond to. They were entering the gates of the base as she stared outwards with a reflective expression. "Shepard was a very private person-"

"Commander Shepard would never have been involved with a damn squid," a recruit who had not previously been a part of the conversation spoke up. Miranda turned to look at her with narrow eyes. Her name was Newton - ordinarily she was quiet and kept to herself. "They were still hiding on Thessia while we were dying by the millions."

Several assenting responses echoed Newton's sentiments as Miranda looked around incredulously.

"Not to mention the fact that they've been keeping us out of galactic politics for years," Newton continued. "Ever seen those lab rats in a tube? That's exactly what humanity is like with the asari. They keep you distracted with their smiles and their tits, all the while they're bleeding humanity dry."

There was a chorus of responses as several recruits spoke over one another.

"But those tits!"

"It was The Shepard who saved the Galaxy, not the squids or any other goddamn alien."

Emboldened by the support she was receiving, Newton continued her tirade, "Fucking squids are nothing but whores -"

Without pausing to look at who had spoken, Miranda trussed the recruit up in a biotic field and left her dangling over one of the Mako's wheels. Her struggles to free herself only ended up with her helmet bouncing against the wheel as Miranda held her in place. Just the simple field was enough to tax her in her exhausted state.

"The asari, the krogan, turians, quarians…every race in the galaxy bled to stop the Reapers. Individuals like Liara T'Soni, Garrus Vakarian, Tali'Zorah, Mordin Solus, Legion, and Urdnot Grunt," Miranda felt her eyes burn as she rattled off the names of some of Shepard's squadmates. "Those are the heroes who should be on those fucking recruitment posters. They are Shepard's family."

The Mako ground to a halt as they reached the depot. With a contemptuous shove, Miranda released the helpless recruit and she fell into the mud below. Without turning to look at the rest of the recruits, she scrambled down from the Mako. A part of her regretted losing her temper, but she hoped that she had at least caused some of the meat-heads to reconsider their xenophobic views.

"Recruit Lawson!" Miranda looked up ahead to see one of the adjutants clearly waving at her. She frowned, knowing that it was much too soon for her little stunt to have reached the brass. "You're to report to Colonel Jian immediately."

As the adjutant walked away, Miranda looked down at herself. She was undeniably the filthiest she had ever been. Half the mud in the jungle had tried to accompany her back to base. Her hardsuit was coated in the stuff, clinging to the crevices and flaking off as she moved. She doubted Ashley would hug her in her present state.

With a detour only to scrub the mud and dried sweat from her face, Miranda found herself sitting outside Jian's office minutes later. Since she had arrived at Macapá, she had virtually nothing to do with him other than observing him from a distance and helping herself to his dossier during one of her forays into the base's secure systems. His career seemed unremarkable up until the invasion, then he had led one of the most successful resistance movements in Asia. What was included in his dossier was largely irrelevant, Miranda was far more interested in what had been omitted – most notably that he had attended university with Charles Saracino, leader of the pro-human Terra Firma party. She was surprised that someone had taken the trouble to scrub such a tenuous link from his record.

_I guess this is the point where they say thanks for your efforts, but we've reconsidered your enlistment,_ Miranda mused.

The prospect of returning to civilian life was no longer as attractive as it had once seemed. The likelihood of her being permitted to remain on board the _Normandy_ was slim and she had exhausted most of her resources during the war trying to stay one step ahead of her father. For all the multitude of disadvantages that enlistment brought, she had never felt such conviction that she could do something worthwhile with her life.

_Well, I was responsible for the success of the Lazarus Project, so technically…I saved the Galaxy._

She was moping over that thought when she was invited into Jian's office. The Colonel himself was seated behind his desk and did not look up when she saluted smartly. A female Captain was standing slightly to the right. Miranda unfortunately could not study her without making her scrutiny overly obvious.

"I see congratulations are in order Second-Lieutenant Lawson. The highest scores ever achieved by a recruit at OCS." Jian still did not look up from the data pad he was reviewing in front of him.

"I would have expected nothing less of myself, Colonel," Miranda replied honestly. There was no hint of arrogance in her voice, much as there had been several years earlier when Shepard had accused her of being cocky during one of their earliest discussions.

"Although several of your instructors note that you have been disruptive," Jian pointed out.

_Disruptive? That is putting it mildly_ , Miranda thought. "Yes sir." She kept her response brief as opposed to explaining how difficult it was to follow the orders of individuals who were younger, less experienced and infinitely less intelligent than she was.

"Why did you join Cerberus, _Recruit_ Lawson?" the Captain's sudden intrusion on the conversation was blunt.

Miranda was finally able to turn and look at the woman. Her accent combined with dark black hair and bronze skin indicated that she was a native of Brazil. There was an obsidian-like quality to both her stare and her tone, but Miranda did not flinch.

"The Illusive Man hand-picked me for my abilities…my talents. It seemed the sort of organisation in which someone like me could make a real difference. They had the resources, I used them," Miranda explained. "At that time Cerberus was acting in humanity's best interests and I still maintain that-"

"Binthu, Pragia, Sigma-23?" The Captain added in a flinty tone.

Miranda stiffened imperceptibly. "Rogue cells-"

"And Akuze, Recruit? Evidence strongly suggests that Cerberus was behind the thresher maw attack which wiped out the 54th apart from Gunnery Chief Shepard."

"I fail to see where this line of questioning is going," Miranda replied hotly. As shattered as she was, it was difficult to keep her temper in check.

"Do you still have ties to Cerberus?"

"Absolutely none. When I resigned from Cerberus after helping Shepard defeat the Collectors I was black-listed and hunted by my former employer. I should think my war record speaks for itself if you are trying to ascertain my current loyalties."

The Captain's expression did not waiver for a moment, even when Miranda cast a quick glance toward Jian. The Colonel appeared unfazed by the line of questioning, to the point that he still had not bothered to look up at her. Miranda kept her mouth shut and remained content with imagining the startled look on the other woman's face when she was hurled out the window by a biotic throw.

"And where do those current loyalties lie? To the Systems Alliance…or the cult of Shepard?"

"The cult?" Miranda frowned. "Don't be absurd. Shepard was a remarkable woman…but she was just that, one woman. The restoration of Earth and its colonies as a whole lie in the hands of the Alliance, as well as its counterparts throughout the Galaxy. Thessia, Palaven…Tuchanka – Shepard forged those alliances during the war, more often than not with her own blood and the blood of her-"

"Relax, Lawson," Jian finally spoke up. His face creased into a smile. "Captain Alves is guilty of being a little over zealous at times-"

_Alves?_ Miranda had to avoid frowning when she heard the name. _That name sounds familiar._

"-rest assured, we are not questioning your loyalty or your future in the SA," Jian continued. "I just wanted to congratulate you prior to passing out and say that we're damned lucky to have you on our side. Dismissed, Lawson."

* * *

 

As Miranda Lawson saluted and turned to leave, Cristiane Alves watched her carefully. She waited until the door had closed and Miranda's footsteps had disappeared down the corridor before turning back to face Jian. Instead of speaking immediately, she crossed the room to stand in front of the desk. She clasped her hands behind her back in a contemplative pose.

"Clearly her sympathies are contrary to what we expected," Jian spoke first. Disappointment registered in his voice.

Alves kept her face an impassive mask. "No…I had my suspicions about Lawson. She was far too close to the late Commander Shepard and the motley gang of outcasts she called her _crew_. I knew she would be useless to us."

"You disagree with the decision to allow her to enlist? Should we rescind her commission?" Jian asked.

"When you've just congratulated her?" Alves sneered. "How would that look to the rest of the intake?"

Jian was slightly irritated at being spoken to in such a fashion by a mere Captain. He straightened in his chair but he still felt as though he was being spoken down to. "What are your recommendations then?"

"Send her to one of the frontier outposts, Ontarom…or, probably more appropriate, Mindoir," Alves suggested.

"The woman has three doctorates and you're talking about shipping her off to a backwater colony like some mere grunt?" Jian bristled.

"It's either that or get rid of her, which I would advise strongly against doing. Lawson was on the bridge of the _Normandy_ throughout the Battle for Earth. If you asked most civilians, they'd consider her a hero, not knowing or caring that she was with Cerberus. Send her to Mindoir, it might help drive recruitment and it will put her in a position where she can't cause any dissention." Alves then frowned thoughtfully. "Assign her to the same unit as the other one."

Jian's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Surely we wouldn't deliberately place two of Shepard's known associates together?"

"I have it on good authority that the two of them can't stand each other. With any luck, they'll tear each other to pieces." A self-satisfied smirk crept onto Alves' face. "We'll be rid of both without having to lift a finger. I just wish I could see the expression on Lawson's face when she finds out."

* * *

 

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2**

The door to the main battery swished open. The noise was subtle but it was enough to startle someone who had most of his ungainly body wedged in between pieces of technology.

"Spirits!" Garrus cursed in pain.

"No one could ever accuse you of being flexible," Tali'Zorah vas Normandy joked as she entered the narrow space. "The real question of course is how did you get your fat head to fit into that narrow gap in the first place?"

Her boots made crisp sounds on the gangway as she marched toward her lover. Garrus turned to give her a wounded look as he rubbed at the crest of horns on his head. It was difficult for him to summon up any hint of annoyance in Tali's comforting presence. Any pain he felt diminished quickly as she beckoned him to lower his head. He had to suppress his un-Turian sigh of delight when her gloved fingers began to stroke the spines and downwards over his forehead and temples. Weeks of stress faded away beneath her gentle ministrations. It required a conscious effort on his part not to appear disappointed when her touch disappeared a few minutes later.

"I could do with a little more of that," he admitted.

When Tali placed her hands firmly on her hips, he could tell that she was giving him a long, hard stare behind her mask. He could see the faint glow of her eyes and knew that they were slightly narrowed. _Spirits, I know I'm in trouble when she gives me that look._

"You haven't spoken to Ash, have you?" she asked.

Garrus' mandibles lowered a little. "As soon as my shift ends-"

"Don't pull that on me, Vakarian. I have your duty rosters memorized and I know for a fact that your shift was over seventeen minutes ago." She levelled her finger at his chest. "And don't even mention the 'c' word to me. It's not half as endearing as it used to be."

"Tali-"

"You promised, Garrus!" she interrupted. "We'll be in contact with the _Moray_ and Admiral Raan tomorrow. Are you going to wait until we're leaving to explain things to the Commander?"

"Not exactly…"

Tali's stance shifted into one that resembled sympathy. She extended her hand and laid it against his broad chest. Wearing clothes as opposed to his hardsuit, she could feel the muscles rippling even through her gloves. "Are you having second thoughts?"

Garrus shook his head. "No…and yes. Ash needs us. We're just adding to the crewmembers who have abandoned the _Normandy_ – Miranda, Javik, Liara, if we go too…"

"The Reapers have been defeated, our reason for being on the _Normandy_ in the first place. I know we both think of this ship as home, but first and foremost it's still a human military vessel." Tali said the words reluctantly.

No one on board the _Normandy_ resented their presence, but she felt a strong desire to leave on her own terms before she was told to. Miranda's reasons for leaving had been straightforward enough. The woman harboured a delusion that she ought to officially join the human military. While Tali cared for Ashley, she had never really seen eye to eye with Miranda Lawson. For all the changes she had undergone, Miranda would always be the Cerberus bitch with a rod up her ass.

Javik had departed for Thessia only a few weeks after the end of the war. He felt he owed some continued loyalty to the asari, and his ingrained distrust of Ashley meant that he could not accept her authority in the way he had accepted Shepard's.

The one crewmember whose departure Tali had not been able to understand was Liara's. She missed the asari’s presence almost as much as she missed Shepard. It had been Liara who had patiently listened while she tried to explain the strange feelings that she was having in response to Garrus and had held her when she refused to accept the truth that she was in love with him. Now Tali could not imagine her life without the dry-humoured Turian, and Liara was out there alone.

As Garrus watched, she reached up and carefully unclipped her face mask so she could stare at him with her own eyes for a few moments. His expression softened when she let it fall. She wanted desperately to kiss him, even just a brief peck on the cheek so she could feel his rough skin against her lips. However, it was the difference between a simple cold and a severe infection. After an entire shift, Garrus' skin would potentially be host to any number of hazardous bacteria.

"You need to talk to her," Tali repeated softly, her voice sounding different without processors.

"I'll go now," Garrus murmured. A sigh escaped his lips when she replaced her mask all too soon. "And I'm sorry for my reluctance. I meant what I said when I promised to join you on Rannoch. I want to share in the rebuilding of your homeworld…it's just that I feel guilty that I have such a future to look forward to."

Without replying with words, Tali slipped into his arms and moulded the hard lines of her suit into the sharp angles of his body. It seemed as though it should be impossible for them to fit together as well as they did. Although Tali knew that there had once been a point in her life where she had imagined herself finding another Quarian to spend her life with, she found it difficult to recall such a time. Now there was only Garrus Vakarian – complete with his scars, dry wit that often wasn't remotely funny and his obsession with perfection. She could only hope that there was something worthwhile for him to calibrate on Rannoch.

Garrus eased himself out of Tali's embrace. The two of them walked as far as the elevator together. "EDI, where is Commander Williams?" the Turian asked.

_{Commander Williams is in her quarters,}_ EDI replied immediately. _{She has been awake for thirty minutes, but her behaviour has been… lethargic.}_

"Hangover," they said in unison.

Garrus nodded and continued, "I'll make coffee."

The welcome Garrus received when he knocked on the door to the Crow's Nest ten minutes later was subdued. There was no answer to his hail, nevertheless the door unlocked and he was admitted. The lights inside were dimmed low and it took his eyes a few moments to adjust as he looked around. Given the scarcity of available resources, the Crow's Nest had not been refitted to suit the tastes of its new occupant. The fish tank was still to his left as he entered, although it was completely devoid of both fish and water. The empty glass box looked nothing short of depressing. Shepard's model collection had been completely untouched – every carefully collected item was mounted in the same place he remembered. Garrus crossed to the display, studying them with a fond eye as he remembered Shepard consulting him on the colour scheme for the Turian frigate. He did not linger long, instead carefully carrying the steaming mug of coffee down to where Ashley Williams sat on the sofa with her head in her hands. On the table in front of her were two glasses and an empty bottle of human alcohol.

"Late night, Ash?" he asked as he took a seat. He held the mug close to the ailing commander so the invigorating smell could waft to her nostrils.

Ashley jerked her head up almost immediately. Her haggard face brightened considerably when she saw his gift. "Garrus you wonderful, wonderful Turian. I could kiss you right now."

"I won't tell Miranda if you don't tell Tali," Garrus said with a wink.

The Commander gratefully accepted the coffee. Her sip was accompanied by a very satisfied slurp and rounded off with a sigh.

"This coffee tastes like absolute crap." Her words did not mirror her reaction. "Why couldn't Shepard have had a stash of the good stuff?"

They both knew full well that Shepard loathed the taste of coffee.

There was a sudden loud snort from the direction of the bed. Garrus looked up to realise that a small shape was curled up in the middle of Ashley's bed. Even as he frowned, the snort developed into full throated snores that sounded as though they ought to have emerged from a much larger creature.

"Is there something you're not telling me, Ash?" Garrus asked, observing that she appeared unbothered by the fact that there was someone, who obviously wasn't Miranda, in her bed.

"Traynor and I polished off that bottle of scotch at the end of our shift. Her claims about being able to handle her alcohol were greatly exaggerated." Ashley smirked. "When she passed out I dumped her in my bed. It was less likely to cause tongues to wag than carrying her back to her own bunk. And I felt sorry for her I guess. I didn't even realise she'd been pulling double shifts all week. It seems to me that the XO ought to bring matters like that to my attention."

Ashley watched Garrus over the rim of her cup as she took another sip.

"She made me promise not to tell you-"

"Garrus, whether she's your friend or not, Traynor's still an NCO, she doesn't get to dictate terms to the XO," Ashley reprimanded him in the sternest tone she could manage.

"We're under-strength, Ash. Half the crew are pulling double shifts and their Commander is not setting any sort of example. Your shift was up when we returned from the drop to Eden Prime – you pulled twelve hours solid groundside and another eight once we were back on the ship. Who's going to tell you to sort yourself out once I'm gone?"

There was a pregnant silence in the air when Garrus finished his sentence.

"So you are leaving?"

"Yeah."

"Rannoch?"

Garrus confirmed with a nod and Ashley suddenly became very interested in her coffee. She drained half of the cup and spent a great deal of time staring at the dregs before she said anything. "I'll be sorry to see you both go."

Garrus snorted. "You can admit it, Ash. After that stunt earlier, you'll be pleased to see the back of me. You were right, you know - we don't know what the hell Shepard would have done if she were still here."

"She'd probably be too busy making blue kids with Liara to care about the _Normandy_ anyway," Ashley quipped sadly.

"Can you imagine her as a parent?" Garrus shook his head in disbelief.

"She always had enough trouble feeding and washing herself," Ashley replied, a broad smile forming on her face when she recalled Shepard's magnetic propensity to attract dirt. "Nor can I imagine her trying to do baby talk…"

Ashley's voice trailed off sadly. Somehow Garrus had tricked her into talking about the one subject she consciously tried to avoid. Miranda had often tried, but she had developed into the master of changing the subject or feigning disinterest. She wasn't sure why she reacted in such a manner, especially when Shepard was constantly on her mind. Some days, the Commander was the only subject she wanted to talk about.

"I miss her, Garrus," she admitted quietly. "I've lost comrades before – the entire two-twelve was slaughtered around me on Eden Prime. That still hurts three years later – but the Skipper was different…more than just a superior officer or a fellow marine. I guess, in thinking about it, she was like another sister. I know I've already got three, but she was the infuriatingly smug older sister I never had. The sister I tried to emulate despite falling short in every single way."

"Shepard wouldn't say you fell short," Garrus added. "She would be damn proud of you."

When tears burned in Ashley's eyes, she realised exactly why she avoided the subject. Even over six months after the Day of Days, the wound was still just as raw as it was at the moment the corona of heat and flame from the Crucible had slammed into Liara's barrier. Instinctively she reached for the bottle of scotch only to remind herself that it was empty and it was the reason for the dull ache behind her eyes.

"I won't be pleased to see the back of you, Garrus…or Tali, but I do wish you all the best." Ashley refused to scrub at her eyes, preferring to let a couple of errant tears track down her cheeks.

"Don't act like this is a permanent goodbye, Williams," Garrus reproached her in a gentle voice. "You're not getting rid of us forever."

"Damn." Ashley chuckled.

Ashley and Garrus were interrupted by a groan from the bed. The pair looked up to see Specialist Samantha Traynor sitting on the bed with her head in her hands. Her hair was sticking up at a number of interesting angles. When Ashley cleared her throat, the Specialist peered anxiously through her fingers.

"Oh god, I don't normally have an audience when I wake up," Traynor said in a mortified tone. She glanced around and her eyes widened when she realised that she was still in the Crow's Nest. "This cannot possibly be worse."

"Don't worry, Traynor," Ashley said. "You snore very prettily."

* * *

 

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

"Shepard!"

The abrupt violence of Liara's waking moments caused her weight to slide off the side of her bed. She landed hard on the freezing floor amidst a tangle of sweat soaked sheets. Rather than pick herself up, she lay in the cold with the sweat rapidly cooling to chill her to the bone. The cold was of very little consequence. _Goddess._ Crying out her dead lover's name as she woke was the first time Liara had spoken it aloud for months. In unconsciously breaking her own, harsh rule, Liara opened the floodgates on a torrent of emotional pain. As she lay on the floor, Shepard and her recurring dream became the sole focal point of her thoughts.

The dream had been virtually the same every night for the past week – the only changes being her increasingly emotional waking moments. Every morning she woke feeling drained and exhausted to the point where she wondered why she bothered sleeping at all.

In her dream, she found herself inside the Crucible alongside Shepard. It was what she had so desperately wanted that day in London – to be with Shepard at the end. However, her subconscious mind took Lucy Park's description of the actual events and twisted them into something altogether more grotesque and agonising. Every night, as she watched in helpless terror, the Catalyst was ripped from Shepard's chest while it was still fused with her beating heart. Even awake, Liara could remember the sickening, sucking sound of blood and the tearing of flesh.

Despite the mangled pulp of her heart no longer residing within her chest, Shepard somehow remained alive. Her blue eyes were open, pleading with Liara to do something to make the pain stop. Short of killing Shepard herself, there was absolutely nothing she could do other than hold her hand and offer hollow reassurances. There was now nothing that Liara could do to convince herself that the dream was not reality. As far as she knew, that was precisely how Shepard had died – except that she had been alone at the end.

When she eventually worked her way out of the sheets, Liara was too cold to bother with a shower. Instead she dragged on the same clothes she had worn the day before over her chilled limbs. She had remained on the floor for so long that her fingers were almost numb.

Switching onto autopilot, Liara padded her way to the kitchen. She stood in front of her food stores, but the thought of eating made her want to vomit before a bite had passed her lips.

When Liara found herself in front of her work-station, she did not remember walking the steps necessary to be in that position. Almost every screen demanded her attention in some form or another - from something as simple as authorising a payment, to backing the destabilisation of a potentially dangerous regime that had emerged on Tuchanka. Liara lifted her fingers and poised them above the haptic interface. All that was required was a slight twitch of each finger to commence, but she remained inert.

"Shepard." The whisper left her lips for no reason other than that she wanted to say the name deliberately. Almost as soon as her lips and tongue worked around the familiar syllables, she could not stop herself. "Commander. Evangeline. Shepard. Evan."

She dropped her arms to her side and her head slumped forward. For the past months, her routine and her strict rules had held her life together like glue – it offered stability and purpose. Now that it had begun to unravel, she struggled to feel an affinity with that purpose. Nothing had changed the indirect benevolence of the Shadow Broker's manipulations, what had changed was her desire to care about any of it. What was the good in rebuilding a world where hope did not exist?

Liara forced her body away from the console. The movement was such that it was as though some invisible force had grabbed her from behind and dragged her backwards. With awkward, jerky movements she followed the thick cables that trailed along the floor to her intended destination. Before she could dwell further on what she was about to do, her trembling fingers closed around the main power cable. With a vice-like grip she depressed the release handle. Steeling herself for just a moment, Liara yanked it out with savage finality. With the audible and instant power loss, the bank of monitors went dark. The haptic display on the console winked out and died altogether. As Liara slumped back onto her haunches, the once frenetic equipment sat silent and dead in front of her. With one movement, she had effectively done what others could only dream of doing. She had destroyed the Shadow Broker.

Unable to dwell on what she had just done, Liara found herself fleeing for the outdoors as she had done all too often over the past days. This time however she did not bother with the coat, dragging on only a pair of boots.

The winter sunshine outside was bright enough to make her squint, however it held little warmth. She shielded her eyes as she turned to regard the external walls of her home. Almost perfectly blended with the surrounding trees and jagged rock, little could be seen from the outside other than the sweeping curved windows set into the thermocrete bunker. A bank of solar panels was camouflaged to appear like a part of the tree canopy. As Liara stared at her home, she did not see a sanctuary, she saw a prison. That this was a prison of her own making did not matter.

When a blue of movement caught the corner of her eye, she dismissed it as local wildlife. It was only when she heard actual words that something inside her triggered to the presence of another individual.

"Hello there!"

The words were simple and innocuous, yet Liara responded with immediate, unrestrained fury. Barely turning around to mark her target, she launched herself across the distance. She felt the fierce thrill of the biotic charge for the first time since Omega. Her blood raced as her hands tightened around the throat of a human. Last time, she had ripped it out…this time she squeezed. As she felt a pulse thumping desperately beneath her fingers, Liara wanted nothing more than to laugh.

Gradually the exhilaration of the violence faded. As her senses cleared, Liara was left with the stark realisation that she was murdering an innocent man. She saw the desperation in his eyes, his lips peeled back as he struggled to breathe and knew that she had made a terrible mistake. Her grip slackened and he immediately slumped to his knees. As he knelt, he drew in a great, sucking breath. Liara reeled backwards, tripped and fell on her back.

When she picked herself up into a sit, she stared at the human male standing in front of her. Liara could see that he was relatively advanced in years according to the basic senescence of humans – his face was lined and the hair on his head, although thick, was completely silver in colour. While he wore a thick jacket to protect his upper body against the cold, he wore something that humans called _shorts_ to cover his lower body. Between his thick woollen socks and the bottom of his shorts, his knees were bare. He carried a large backpack that looked as though it weighed as much as he did.

As he regained his feet, his expression left her confused and sick to her stomach. For someone who had been on the receiving end of a biotic charge and subsequently choked, he appeared remarkably calm. This unnerved Liara more than if he had responded with anger and violence.

"I am sorry," Liara whispered. Her voice was thick with shame as she scrambled to her feet. She started backing away slowly. "I am so sorry."

He held up both hands in a calming gesture and smiled. The response only served to make her feel even worse.

"It's okay, kid. Being stuck up here by yourself would be enough to make anyone a little homicidal…as beautiful as it is."

In between bristling at being called a _kid_ by someone who was probably half her age and marvelling that he could make a joke about murder, Liara realised his accent reminded her of Miranda's. It was less nasal but with mangled consonants and muddied words that were initially difficult for Liara to understand.

When she did not reply, he continued, "The name's Peter Massey. I was employed by T'Loak's people to bring your supplies up here. Usually when I see you outside I wait until you've gone back inside…I don't know what came over me today. I guess I just felt like saying hi. Wrong choice!" He grinned again as though it had all been some silly joke. "Now I'm just going to take this pack off and get your stuff out. I'd really appreciate it if you don't start up with those biotics of yours again."

As Liara watched, he swung the pack down from his back with a relieved sigh. It took him only a minute to unstrap it, rummage around inside and withdraw two of the light containers Liara was used to retrieving from the supply cache outside her compound. She wanted to say something, to ask how he had ended up working for Aria and what the hell he was doing in this place, but at the same time she could not bring herself to speak. Instead she stared as he set her supplies down in front of her and began re-strapping his pack.

When it was resettled on his shoulders, he straightened and looked towards the direction from which he had just come. "I'd better be starting back. It was real nice to have met you…say, I never did get your name." He paused for a moment, but Liara did not offer it in response. Eventually he just grinned again and started backing away. "I'll try to be less intrusive in the future."

Although she had said barely a word to him, Liara watched the human leave for as long as she could see the bright red of his backpack bobbing through the trees. When all trace was gone – sight and sound – aside from the supplies at her feet, she felt distinctly bereft.

"My name is Liara T'Soni," she whispered as she slumped downwards once again. She landed hard on the cold earth. "I used to be the Shadow Broker…now I am nothing."

 


	4. A Warm Place with No Memory

**  
** **Location Withheld**

There were few sounds in the room other than the steady beep emitted by one of the monitoring machines and the almost imperceptible sound of the woman in front of her breathing in her sleep. Dr Naomi Stone's soft footsteps led her directly to the side of the narrow bed where she stopped and stared down at Shepard. In sleep, all traces of the violence that had been evident following her awakening several days earlier had disappeared. Her dark lashes lay softly against her smooth, pale skin. The woman looked impossibly young – much too young to be the Hero of the Citadel and Saviour of Humanity.

_And fragile,_ Stone mused as she noted the way Shepard's lips were parted slightly as she slept. A few strands of hair had worked their way over her face. Without thinking, the doctor reached out and smoothed them back behind her ear. The silken strands flowed between her fingers. Her fingers moved downwards, pressing gently against the soft skin of Shepard's face. Enjoying the touch, she could not resist pressing her entire hand against the side of her face and making gentle sweeping motions with her thumb. The unconscious woman startled her for a moment when she leaned into the touch. Stone did not remove her hand. Instead a small smile creased her face and she grew bolder. The pads of her fingers trailed lower, brushing against the tender flesh of Shepard's lips.

"How is our guest today, Dr Stone?"

This time Stone jerked her hand away. She whirled around to find her colleague, Dr Bryan Heller, standing in the doorway behind her.

"Vitals stable…although she is somewhat restless compared with yesterday," Stone replied, doing her best to keep her tone neutral as Heller entered the room. "I would suggest bringing her back out soon."

"Yes, well, thank you for your opinion, but I'm not in a hurry to have a repeat of the last little incident," Heller reminded her in an acidic voice. "I didn't particularly enjoy having a weapon shoved in my face."

_I enjoyed you with a weapon in your face_ , Stone tried to keep traces of a grin from creeping onto her lips. "We've kept her under for four days already, Heller," she protested quietly. "I have no more tests to run on her in this state. I want her awake and responsive."

"I'll send the request up the chain." Heller did not sound overly enthusiastic. He came to stand on the opposite side of the bed as Stone regarded him with a closed expression. Heller wasn't looking at her any longer, he too was staring down at Shepard. As he studied the unconscious woman, he cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. "How could one woman survive so much? If I was a religious man, I would say that someone up above has a serious hard on for Shepard."

"Her survival has nothing to do with god or whatever hokey ancient religion you want to believe in," Stone pointed out in a methodical tone. "Shepard is amazing…in fact, she's beyond amazing. What Cerberus did to her when they rebuilt her following the Alchera incident, it's light years beyond any technology that the Alliance possess. In rebuilding her, Cerberus was able to make unheard of improvements to the types of upgrade packages we offer to Alliance soldiers. We're not just talking about eyesight corrections and strength enhancers, she has synthetic fabric woven into her bones, rendering them virtually unbreakable. Something similar has been done to her muscles with a micro-fibre weave enhancing both strength and durability – probably somewhere between thirty to fifty percent above average. Although her muscles were severely atrophied when we recovered her, they're regenerating at an unprecedented rate. Even without proper nutrition."

"Impressive without a doubt,” Heller commented as though bored. “But surely not advanced enough to explain her survival of the Crucible's destruction…or that tech on her arm?"

Stone shook her head. "No, that I think can be explained by this…"

She pulled up a multi-dimensional scan that she had carried out shortly after Shepard's arrival at the facility. "See those fine white lines, that's the synthetic tech…however something has grafted itself to those structures on an atomic level…throughout her entire body. Notably around her heart." Stone moved the view on the diagnostic tool so that she could show Heller the scan of Shepard's heart. The outlines of the same crystalline material that made up her lower left arm, could clearly be seen on the walls of the organ. "It's the Catalyst…it clearly saved her life. As you can probably extrapolate, it was responsible for re-growing her lower arm and hand."

"Have you taken a sample?" Heller asked.

Stone shook her head. "I tried, however the substance is impenetrable…even for diamond-tipped cutting instruments."

"She truly is a marvel," Heller commented sarcastically.

Stone narrowed her eyes. "She is! Not forgetting of course that you argued against her retention in the first place."

Heller appeared unconcerned by the accusations in her tone. He simply shrugged. "You understand the consequences if word of her survival gets out. You know full well what kind of person Shepard is and where her sympathies lie. It could undermine everything the Alliance is working for-"

"Quit it, Heller," Stone muttered as she abruptly shut down her omni-tool. "You don't need to preach to me."

"Good," Heller said as he turned his attention to the unconscious woman lying in front of him. He also reached down and pressed his palm against Shepard's cheek. However, where Stone's touch had been gentle, he gave the skin a sharp slap. Shepard did not wake. "I'll take your request up the chain…let's see if we can wake your little lab rat up so you can play with her."

"I believe the term is _study_ , Dr Heller," Stone stressed.

Heller lifted his eyebrows for a moment. He turned and made his way toward the door. "Call it what you will."

Stone breathed a sigh of relief when Heller left the room. It wasn't that she loathed his company, although he was particularly unlikeable, she just preferred to be alone with Shepard. In all truth, a part of her had been chagrined that Shepard had not shown the slightest recognition when she woke. There had been absolutely nothing in her blank gaze, and then she had started asking for that asari. However, in the subsequent days, she had assuaged her fears with the knowledge that Shepard had been confused and frightened. Stone was determined that next time she would be able to calm the woman more effectively.

She turned her attention back to Shepard, relieved to find that the red mark left by Heller's hand had already faded. With her heartbeat fluttering in an unruly manner inside her chest, she lowered her mouth close to Shepard's ear. "You must learn to accept your situation, my dear Evan, for both our sakes."

* * *

 

**Earth's Orbit, Sol System**

The undeniably familiar visual of the planet Earth gradually loomed larger across the canopy of the _Normandy's_ cockpit. Although the planet had never been her own home, Ashley Williams nevertheless felt a strong affinity for humanity's home world. In the wake of the Reaper War, it had come to represent everything that they had fought to preserve. For the crew of the _Normandy_ it represented what they had lost on a much more personal level - it was where Shepard had died.

Shifting slightly in the co-pilot's chair that EDI's physical body had once occupied, Ashley found the first twinges of nervousness starting to creep into the pit of her stomach. She put it down to a combination of exhaustion and overwork – or at least that was what she told herself when she had almost starting blubbing like an FNG when Garrus and Tali departed a few days ago with the Quarian ship – the _Moray_. At the first signs of trouble – a trembling lip and burning eyes - it had taken every ounce of her willpower not to give over to a storm of tears. Ashley managed to hold herself together until she was away from prying eyes in the Crow's Nest. With the help of several glasses of scotch, she'd allowed herself to give into the grief. What emerged wasn't just the fresh pain of losing Garrus and Tali, she finally acknowledged the unhealed wounds that had lingered for months. The next morning she had appeared on deck calm, composed and ready to face a _Normandy_ without two of its most familiar residents.

Ashley discreetly smoothed the sweaty palms of her hands against her trousers. Beside her, Joker appeared to be too busy concentrating on their approach to spot his Commander's nerves. She distracted herself by scanning the other ships in orbit. As far as she could tell, all of them were Alliance vessels. She could not see a single ship belonging to one of the other Council races.

"How do you like the view, Commander?" Joker asked. He did not turn to look at her as his attention remained focused on the haptic displays in front of him.

"Amazing," Ashley responded honestly. "I'm seriously considering making this my permanent station."

"Don't take this the wrong way, ma'am…but please don't," Joker replied. "It's bad enough with EDI constantly making comments on my flying skills, let alone having my commanding officer looking over my shoulder as well."

_{My comments are merely helpful suggestions formulated to provide advice and improve your overall flying technique,}_ EDI added. _{It is my reasoning that you will become less reckless if offered appropriate alternatives.}_

Joker gave Ashley a quick glance so she could see him roll his eyes. "See what I have to put up with?" The complaint was given in a fond tone that completely negated his protests.

"Don't worry, Joker. My place is on the CIC, that won't be changing anytime soon," Ashley reassured him. "Unless of course Alliance brass decides that someone else will do a better job of commanding the _Normandy._ "

The pilot responded with a snort of derision. "Good luck getting her crew to accept that bullshit!"

Their eyes met again for a brief moment. Ashley gave her pilot a stern, level stare but he did not appear in the slightest bit apologetic for his words.

Ashley sighed and turned her attention back to Earth. "Whatever happens, we will be seeing a few new faces around here. I need a new XO for starters, a couple of junior officers and at least a full squad of marines."

"Junior officers, huh? Say, don't we know someone who graduated from OCS the other day?" Joker pointed out in an amused voice.

Ashley could not allow herself to share the pilot's amusement. "Second-Lieutenant Lawson will not be joining the crew-"

"Re-joining, ma'am," he interrupted. " _Re_ -joining. We've had our differences in the past, but Miranda Lawson is as much a part of this ship as you or I."

"I know what you mean, Joker, but I cannot function with that woman on my ship."

"And I know exactly what _you_ mean!" Joker added enthusiastically. When he turned to share the joke with the Commander, he found her regarding him with a look that said she was only a few seconds away from finding a creative way to make him suffer. "Sorry, ma'am."

"I don't know how you know the things you know, Flight Lieutenant," Ashley commented in a strict tone. "But I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your knowledge to yourself. There are some things that I would rather keep private."

For all Ashley's sincere feelings regarding Miranda, she did not think that the Alliance brass would react well to such fraternisation with a junior officer…not to mention one with a notorious past. As to what that was going to bode for their future, Ashley preferred not to dwell on that.

"Yes, ma'am," Joker replied in a relieved voice. A light flashed on his console to indicate an incoming message. "Uh, Commander, it looks like we've got an incoming docking request…damn, it's from the SSV _Tai Shan_ …Fleet Admiral Kessler requesting permission to board. Err, Commander, you might want to go and dig out your dress blues."

"You have got to be shitting me," Ashley slammed her palm down on the armrest of her chair. However, when she leaned forward, she could see the unmistakable silhouette of the Alliance dreadnought, SSV _Tai Shan_ , flagship of Fleet Admiral Hans Kessler, coming up on their starboard side. With most of _Normandy's_ communiques coming through Hackett in the past, Ashley had never met the man. He was largely an unknown quantity, although she had heard that he was a traditionalist and a stickler for discipline. "Looks like we'll all be waiting a little longer for that shore leave."

Twenty minutes later, feeling like a well-dressed turkey, Ashley waited near the _Normandy's_ airlock. Her sweaty palms had returned tenfold. However, in addition to the nerves, she felt a gnawing twinge of annoyance at the delay to her shore-leave. They had already passed the scheduled time when they were supposed to be docking at the space port in Melbourne, Australia. Ashley was buttoned up in her dress blues, standing at attention, when she ought to have been dragging on her civvies.

_Dammit, Miri_ , she thought as the airlock warning light switched to green. _You'll have to be patient for a little while longer_. She cast a quick glance down the line of crewmembers in the greeting party. When she caught Sam Traynor's disgruntled expression, it conveyed exactly how displeased she was at being chosen for the privilege.

"Look sharp, Traynor," Ashley admonished gently. "We all have to do our bit."

"Yes, ma'am," the Specialist replied in a tight voice.

Ashley was expecting Fleet Admiral Kessler to be one of the first through the doors, however an ANN cameraman and reporter beat him through so they could establish the perfect shot of him boarding the _Normandy_. The opening shot caught Ashley with a scowl on her face. No one had warned her about reporters. She had only seconds to wipe it before the stern visage of the man himself strode onto the deck. Ashley and her surrounding officers and crew snapped smartly to attention, returning his salute in unison. The Fleet Admiral was a heavy-set man, and much younger than she had expected. His dress uniform strained against his barrel-like chest. Ashley did not think that any of his bulk was fat. Although his face was fixed into a sincere mask for the cameras, she found nothing but granite in the grey eyes that peered out beneath his thick black eyebrows.

"Commander Williams!" He extended his hand, pumping it once in a firm gesture. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you…and step aboard the _Normandy_ for the first time."

Ashley flexed her crushed fingers discreetly when they were released. She was all too aware of the camera hovering just above her shoulder. It took all her energy to resist the urge to turn around and swat it away. "Welcome aboard, sir. It is an honour."

"Nonsense, the honour is all mine!" Kessler turned to a rather striking female officer standing at his side. "I'd like to introduce you to my aide-de-camp, Captain Cristiane Alves."

"Ma'am," Ashley saluted again as the woman responded with a small smile. As hard as she tried not to look, she had to admit that Alves filled out her uniform very well indeed. Her glossy black hair was styled short in a cut that accented her dark skin and well-proportioned features. Feeling slightly guilty for her appreciative reaction, Ashley set her mouth into tight, determined line. "Welcome aboard also."

"It is a beautiful ship, Commander Williams," Alves practically purred in a rather sensuous accent. "Simply beautiful."

Ashley thought she caught an odd flicker in the other woman's eyes. If she wasn't sure how to interpret it, then the resulting raking gaze that looked her up and down left her under absolutely no illusions about the intent behind Alves's scrutiny. "Thank you, ma'am."

"And what a fine-looking crew," Kessler commented with a smile as he looked down the perfectly straight line of Alliance personnel. "I thought there were also some non-humans on board, Commander?"

"The _Normandy_ was fortunate to have several other races on board," Ashley replied, eager to focus her attention on the Admiral and away from Alves. "They've chosen to go their separate ways, some to return to their homes to assist with rebuilding…much to our loss and our regret."

"No doubt. They are to be commended for their efforts during the war, however the _Normandy_ is a human ship and as such ought to have a human crew," Kessler said, his smile did not waiver an iota as the ANN camera zoomed in for a close-up as he spoke. "Well, Commander, are you going to offer me a tour of your ship?"

Ashley grew increasingly hot and irritated as time passed. Whenever she turned around, the damn ANN camera was hanging in her face catching every single irritated expression that she made. She answered the reporter's occasional inane questions as they arose, by far the most awkward being one where he directly asked her how she felt she compared to The Shepard. Ashley initially balked at the use of the title, before managing to stumble a response along the lines of no one being able to properly fill Shepard's boots.

"I'd like to set up a shot of the two of you in front of the _Normandy's_ memorial wall," the reporter suggested as they emerged on Deck three. "Perhaps with The Shepard's plaque directly in the background."

"Shepard!" Ashley muttered under her breath. "Her name is Shepard."

For a moment Ashley was free of the camera as the ANN personnel adjusted some technical aspect of their equipment. She was left in an awkward silence with Kessler for several moments. Alves hovered nearby with her back to them. The Captain was seemingly intent on scanning the names on the wall. Ashley's gaze lingered for a few moments as the woman bent forward. Although she could appreciate it as an incredibly nice ass, she immediately compared it to Miranda's. Her girlfriend won hands down. Her relief at coming to such a conclusion was cut short when she realised that she was still staring at a superior officer in an inappropriate manner.

"Clearly not cut from the same mould as your Grandfather are you, Williams?" the Admiral suddenly remarked.

The question caught Ashley unawares. She jerked her gaze away from Alves. "Sir?"

"I had the dubious privilege of serving under General Williams at Shanxi," he explained in a low voice. "A Lieutenant on one of my first postings. I was part of the garrison that surrendered to those turian bastards. It took me a long time and a hell of a lot of hard work to erase that blot from my record, I expect you understand exactly what I mean."

Ashley had worked hard to rise above the stigma associated with the Williams name, but she had never viewed her Grandfather's actions in surrendering to the turians as a mere blot on a record. In her opinion Thatcher Williams was a hero who had saved countless lives through his selfless actions. It took an immense effort not to narrow her eyes and inject an undercurrent of venom into her tone when she replied.

"Yes, sir," Ashley said in a tight voice. "I do, sir."

"Good girl." He beamed at her before turning to the reporters and barking, "What's the hold up?"

Ashley scowled behind his back.

* * *

 

**Melbourne, Australia**

Ashley quickly shoved the last pile of clothes into her bag and drew it closed with a determined tug. When she paused for a few moments to consider whether she had forgotten anything, she found that her palms were so sweaty she had to wipe them on her thighs.

_How can you be nervous?_ she asked herself as she hoisted the relatively light sack on her back. _It's just Miranda_.

Still, the Fleet Admiral's impromptu visit had increased her anxiety levels tenfold. Not only were they three hours late docking in Melbourne, Ashley was only just beginning to realise what other women were complaining about when they said they had nothing to wear. Officially on shore leave as of five minutes earlier when she had handed the _Normandy_ over to the yard crew, Ashley was dressed in some of the scant civilian clothes she still owned - a plain white vest top, a pair of tight-fitting, well-worn jeans, and low, brown leather boots. Her hair she left unbound. It had grown so long it sat slightly below her shoulders.

Resigned to the fact that there was nothing she could do to improve her appearance, Ashley left the Crow's Nest. She found Sam Traynor still at her post in the CIC - the sole person who looked more boring than she did. The Specialist was still in her uniform as though she had absolutely no intention of getting changed into her civvies.

"Sam?" Ashley called out.

The Specialist made only a cursory attempt to look over her shoulder. "Oh, hello, Commander Williams."

Ashley sighed at the familiar tone in Sam's voice, and indeed the use of her rank when it clearly wasn't necessary. "You're still not annoyed about the whole snoring incident, because Garrus and I did not tell a soul, I swear."

"What?" Sam had not been listening. She finally stopped typing and turned, leaning back against her console. She folded her arms across her chest in a stubborn manner. "Oh, the snoring? No, it was mortifying at the time…but I assure you I'm completely over it." She saw Ashley lift her eyebrows suspiciously. "Honestly!"

"Whatever," Ashley wasn't entirely convinced, especially as Sam ducked her head nervously. "We're in port. I've handed the _Normandy_ over to the refit team and the entire crew is off-duty – that includes you, whether you like it or not. I tell you what, I'll wait for you to change into your civvies and grab your duffel - you're having dinner with Miranda and me tonight."

Sam's eyes immediately went wide with fright. "Comman…Ashley, I'm leaving the ship, I promise…but please do not ask me to eat with the two of you…please? At least not tonight, not until you've spent at least twenty-four hours alone together and have managed to…get everything out of your system." She ducked her head in embarrassment.

Ashley didn't know whether to laugh or be slightly affronted, she settled for the former. "Okay, but we are going for drinks-" she paused and looked thoughtful for a moment"- maybe only a couple of drinks in your case and we're going to find you a gorgeous Australian girl that takes your fancy."

"Sure thing," Sam replied sincerely enough.

Ashley's nerves returned almost the moment she entered the airlock to leave the ship. She swung her duffel over her shoulder in a manner that she hoped was casual and stepped outside into the pleasant heat of autumn in Australia. From the moment her boots echoed on the gangway, it was obvious that the Docking Bay surrounding the Normandy was still under construction. Although the oversized mag-clamps that secured the ship in place were completed, the crew walkways and maintenance access could be described as temporary at best and ramshackle at worst. Through the gaps in the gangway beneath her feet, Ashley could see straight down to the ground some hundred metres below her. She started walking down, receiving a vigorous salute from the young marine privates on guard duty as she passed on her way to the elevator.

She kept searching her surroundings as she rode downwards in the large cage – designed for hauling equipment as opposed to passengers. Every fibre of her being was tensed in anticipation at seeing Miranda for the first time in over four months. When the door slid open at the bottom, no sooner had her boot hit the dry earth than her ears were accosted by a chorus of enthusiastic shouts and cheers of 'ooh rah.' Startled, Ashley found herself flanked by lines of uniformed marines. She looked left and right as, in unison, they snapped into a perfect salute. Feeling decidedly underdressed, Ashley responded awkwardly with her duffel still over her shoulder. Even as smiling, eager marines surged forward to shake her hand, her gaze wandered in a desperate attempt to find Miranda.

"You're the reason I enlisted in the Corps, ma'am," a young woman beamed as she pumped Ashley's hand in a firm grip. "It's an honour to actually meet you in person."

Ashley's cheeks burned. "Um…thanks-"

"You're an inspiration to women all over Earth," another added.

"Hell, you're an inspiration to all marines!" an Ops Chief shouted out. His battered face was covered with recently healed scars. "Ooh rah, ma'am!"

"Can we see your Black Widow?" another called out.

_I sincerely hope that's not bad innuendo._ "Well…it's still on board," Ashley admitted. "I wasn't planning on using it during shore leave."

Those nearest to her laughed. Several slapped her on the arms and back as more surged forward, all eager to have the opportunity to shake the hand of Commander Ashley Williams.

"Have you seen your poster, ma'am?" a grinning Private asked.

"Um…yeah," she replied. “I need to have words with someone about that-”

"Can I ask you out on a date, Commander Williams?"

Ashley gave a cocky, handsome Lieutenant a level stare as he grinned at her in the wake of his question. _I'm spoken for_ , hovered on the tip of her tongue before she stopped herself. For a few moments all she could manage was an awkward shake of her head before she thought of a more appropriate response. "I already have a wife, Lieutenant. She weighs forty kilos, is effective against armour, shields, and biotic barriers and can punch through twenty-five centimetres of cover without armour-piercing mods."

Even as the marines laughed around her, Ashley tried to push her way forward while craning her neck in an effort to see over their heads. Although she was genuinely touched by some of their comments, she was overawed by what she saw as undeserved attention and praise. All she had ever done was her job. After shaking what seemed like the hundredth hand, Ashley soon found a pocket of space in which to breathe. It was at that point that her gaze finally came to rest on the one person she actually wanted to see. Everything stopped in that one moment. She could no longer hear the eager questions or feel the bodies pressed up against her on, everything was silent except the sudden quickening of her breath.

_Damn, she looks hot_ , Ashley thought. Her fears about her appearance returned a thousand-fold. Miranda Lawson was standing well away from the crowd. Although also dressed in civvies, Miranda had chosen a patterned dress that hugged her upper half before floating outwards down to mid-thigh. The material was so light that it fluttered slightly in the almost non-existent breeze. In attempting to keep a low profile, Miranda was wearing a pair of oversized glasses and her hair was piled atop her head in an arrangement that somehow managed to be both perfect and scruffy at the same time. The entire picture was so casually elegant it would render her unrecognisable to anyone who didn't know her well.

There was a distinct lump in her throat as Ashley emerged from the throng. With the marines still milling around behind her, somehow her legs carried her across the distance. Even though the sun was not overly hot, it felt like it was baking against her exposed skin. Her nerves combined with the heat to render her lightheaded as she approached the brunette. It took every iota of her willpower to keep from dumping her duffel bag on the ground and hauling Miranda roughly into her embrace.

"Williams," Miranda murmured quietly. The corners of her mouth curved upwards into a gentle smile. "Are you done signing autographs?"

For some reason Miranda's accent sounded even more pronounced in her native country. It brought an amused smile to Ashley's face.

"I'm sorry I'm so damn late." The fingers of her free hand twitched involuntarily in an effort to reach closer to the other woman. With subtle movements of her eyes, Ashley's gaze lingered over her lover's outfit, noting how it clung to her curves in all the right places. "You are undeniably…" She searched for a word that was more expressive than simply saying _hot_. "Stunning."

"I could say the same for you too." Miranda's smile broadened as Ashley raised her eyebrows and looked down at herself with a confused frown.

"I look like utter crap," Ashley protested.

"I think I’m qualified to say otherwise."

Ashley's frown deepened. "What do you mean? M, it's not funny whatever it is you're doing. They're all the civvies I've got-"

Miranda moved in a step closer so she could lower her voice. "Shut up and follow me, Ash. It's clear that the only way I'm going to convince you how gorgeous you are is by grabbing your fingers and making you feel how fucking _wet_ I am...and I'm not about to do that in front of the entire Marine Corps."

* * *

 

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2**

"Sure thing."

Sam injected just enough enthusiasm into her voice to convince Commander Williams to leave her alone. She then made sure that the other woman had disappeared from the CIC completely before she turned her attention back to her work station. The haptic display welcomed her rapidly moving fingers back like old friends and, in only a few moments, it was as though she had never been interrupted.

_{You lied to the Commander, Sam,}_ EDI announced suddenly, ruining Sam's concentration once again. _{You have no intention of leaving the ship. Does that make you guilty of insubordination?}_

"How can you tell I have no intention of leaving the ship?" Sam demanded. She gave up her attempts to work and folded her arms across her chest. "Unless you've suddenly developed new powers and I know you can't read minds. You're just an annoying AI with far too much time on her hands."

_{On the contrary, Sam, I am currently running a multi-dimensional diagnostic of_ Normandy's _antiproton thrusters to determine the reason for a 0.03% decrease in efficiency over the past five days_.} EDI explained. _{With Jeff's assistance, I am also in the process of locking down my core systems to prevent tampering by the Alliance refit team. And I can still find the processing power to determine that you lied to the Commander. Evidently, I am more suited to multi-tasking than you are.}_

"Showing off is not an endearing trait, EDI." Sam remained stubbornly unimpressed. She cocked her head to one side and frowned. "Why is Joker still on board?"

_{Why are_ you _still on board, Traynor?}_ was Joker's almost immediate reply _. {I can't seriously believe you turned down the opportunity to have dinner with the Commander and Miranda. I would have paid a month's wages to be present!}_

Sam did not dignify his comment with a reply. Instead she persisted with her question. "I'm still on board because if I relax I'll be reminded how shit my life is," she admitted quietly. "My parents are dead and my potential girlfriend dumped me for her wife…but hey, at least I'm still alive." She tried to inject an element of enthusiasm into her voice, but it still came out sounding decidedly flat. A part of her still clung to a vague hope that Nick and Radha Traynor had somehow survived the Cerberus atrocity on Horizon, but that part was often silenced by a cruel rationality that told her they had died.

In response, there was nothing but silence for almost a minute. _{The one person I want to spend shore leave with…can't leave the ship anymore,}_ Joker eventually replied.

"Oh, Joker," Sam whispered. EDI was trapped on board the Normandy because her physical body had been destroyed defending her during the Battle for Earth. "I am so sorry."

_{It was not your fault, Sam,}_ EDI responded. _{The loss of my mobile platform was…undesirable, but I would not have been able to act in any other manner. You were in danger and the mission needed to be completed.}_

_{And I don't hate you either,}_ Joker added reassuringly. _{What do you say to you, me, EDI's disembodied presence, a couple of beers and a copy of_ Asari Confessions 15: Once you go Blue, You'll never go Back? I _t's an undeniable classic.}_

"That sounds like the best offer I've had in a long time," Sam replied, even managing a small smile.

* * *

 

**Melbourne, Australia**

"I'm sorry about your dress," Ashley whispered.

An exhausted laugh followed a few seconds later. "It was a very nice dress," Miranda commented softly.

Ashley was lying flat on her back staring up at the ceiling as she regained her breath. The sweat that had pooled between her breasts was gradually drying and she felt some measure of feeling returning to her legs. Eventually she managed to roll over and prop herself up on an elbow so she could stare at Miranda. She could see the side of her lover's face as she looked towards the floor, probably staring at the tattered remnants of her dress. Miranda’s naked body was perfect in any light, but the moonlight rendered it like marble – pale and unblemished save for the dark areolas of her nipples and the inviting triangle of hair nestled between her legs.

"In all honesty though, you look much better out of it." Ashley grinned.

"If you're trying to make amends for destroying it…you're doing a very good job," Miranda replied. "And I don't just mean the compliment." A satisfied sigh escaped her lips. "Another couple of days of that and I shouldn't need to see you for another five months."

Ashley couldn't bring herself to laugh as Miranda's gentle teasing may as well have been the truth. They had a week together, beyond that there was absolutely no guarantee when they would see each other again. With their relationship being a closely guarded secret, it would be difficult to find any sort of synchronicity with future periods of leave.

As Ashley found herself sinking close to one of her moods, she reached for Miranda. "Come here you." As folded the other woman contently against her body, the gloom swiftly dissipated. "What makes you think I can keep that up for days on end?"

"It doesn't all have to be quite so energetic," was the murmured reply. Clearly Miranda's own exhaustion was catching up with her. She closed her eyes as she nuzzled against Ashley's chest. She trailed her hand lazily up and down the length of her muscular flank as she had dreamed of doing so often during her uncomfortable nights in her bunk at OCS. "Maybe we can just do this for a few hours?"

Ashley did grin as she rested her chin atop Miranda's head. "Spending hours with a naked woman in my arms? That doesn't sound so bad."

"Ash…just make me one promise?" Miranda asked a few moments later.

"Okay...within reason." Ashley trailed her fingertips through Miranda's soft hair.

She couldn't remember exactly when the perfectly mussed hairdo had come unravelled – probably sometime between the dress-ripping incident and the last frantic minute before they had driven each other to climax with merciless tongues and thrusting fingers. Or one of the several orgasms that had followed.

"No talk about the bloody Alliance Navy, not for a few days at least. I don't want to have to say 'sir' or 'ma'am' or engage in an energetic activity that isn't fucking," she explained in a firm voice.

"Damn!"

Miranda drew back slightly so she could look at Ashley. She found a rather disappointed expression on her lover's face. "What was that for?"

Thoroughly enjoying the resulting confused expression on her lover's face, Ashley grinned as she wrapped each of her hands around Miranda's. With a fluid shifting of her weight, she rolled her body atop the other woman's and pinned her back against the bed. The dark strands of her hair cascaded forward, brushing against Miranda's naked shoulders.

"I was rather hoping you would show a woman of my rank a little respect this week, Second-Lieutenant," she said in a perfectly composed voice.

Miranda's eyebrows lifted in indignant surprise. "Fuck no." She shook her head and laughed. "We are not playing that game, Ash!"

Ashley arched one eyebrow. "I do believe that's _ma'am_ to you, Lawson."

Ignoring the ineffectual struggles against her restraining grip, she manoeuvred one of her thighs so it was nestled in between Miranda's. As she pressed the limb hard against Miranda's core, she was aware of the lingering moisture from their earlier lovemaking. That warmth, combined with the defiance sparkling in Miranda's eyes, was enough to rekindle her barely sated desire. She began moving her body in a gentle but insistent rhythm. Despite her protest, Miranda's lips parted slightly and she could not completely stifle the resulting groan. With her hair creating a curtain around their flushed faces, Ashley lowered her head and helped herself to another kiss. Unlike the bruising passion they had employed from their first moment of privacy, it was slow and languorous. As their tender flesh melded together to create a fierce heat, Ashley continued to move against her lover.

With a whimper of protest from Miranda, Ashley ended the kiss and levered her body into a sitting position. With one hand she grabbed her hair and swiped it back out of her face so she could clearly see Miranda splayed out beneath her. As her lover watched expectantly through half lidded eyes, Ashley began caressing her upper body with firm but gentle hands. She paid special attention to the nipples, tweaking and pinching them between her thumb and forefinger.

"I'm still not playing your game, Ash," Miranda said in a breathy whisper. A sigh of sweet torture escaped her lips.

Ashley arched her eyebrows as her hands trailed a little lower, over the smooth skin of Miranda’s stomach. "Are you sure, Second-Lieutenant Lawson? Because I might stop doing what I’m doing if you don’t comply."

“Ash,” Miranda growled. Her eyes were closed, lips already parted in expectation. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Without a word of explanation, Ash stopped the downward trajectory of her hand. She simply sat, staring down at Miranda, well aware that her knee was still pressing against a sensitive spot. Remaining still took some measure of self-control on her part. The most beautiful woman in the world was naked beneath her. All Ash wanted to do was to touch, to memorise every curve so she could file it away in her memory for the times when they were apart.

Although she did enjoy the expression of sheer irritation on Miranda’s face. Immensely. A laugh bubbled up in her throat as she gratefully acknowledged just how happy she was. In a world that felt as though everything had been ripped from its foundations and tipped upside down, she had found her anchor. Miranda opened her eyes. In the dim light, the blue appeared black.

“This isn’t funny,” Miranda muttered, her hips instinctively rocking, grinding her sex against Ash’s knee in an effort to find some relief. “But I’m still not giving in.”

“Oh, I’m not laughing about your situation,” Ash said quickly. “I’m just…grateful. But I almost feel guilty about it. When so many people have lost everything, I’ve found my everything.”

Miranda’s gaze softened. “You’re a sentimental idiot.” Her tone was soft, appreciative. “Come down here and wrap your damn arms around me, Williams.”

"Yes, ma'am," Ashley replied readily.

As Miranda folded her body in close, head tucked in against her breasts, leg thrown over one hip, Ashley realised just how exhausted she was. The desire was still there, still only barely sated, but so too was the knowledge that they could fall asleep and then pick up where they had left off. That was a given.

For a while, Miranda’s fingers trailed nonsensical patterns over her back that left her skin tingling. Then that too stopped. A minute or so passed and she supposed that Miranda had fallen asleep. A contented smile crept onto Ashley’s face and she closed her eyes. Her body was already eager to embrace sleep.

"Ash?"

"Miri?" As Ashley spoke her lips brushed against Miranda's forehead.

"You are undeniably shit at this game. You're not supposed to call _me_ ma'am."

 


	5. I Want Love or Death

**A/N:** The following chapter contains above average levels of angst – even for me. Also, a warning for sexual assault that isn’t graphic, but please proceed with caution.

**Location Withheld**

When Shepard awoke again, she felt a brief surge of hope that the hell she had endured in her nightmares was nothing more than that – just nightmares. The white room was gone, replaced by the sort of neutral decor favoured by the soulless individuals that strived to design military spaces with nothing but function and economy in mind. If she blinked a few more times the door would slide open, Liara would walk in and the rest of their lives would finally be able to start.

She was proven wrong as soon as she tried to sit up. Both her wrists and ankles were restrained with thick bands. The extent of her range of movement was lifting her head and shoulders from the pillow. She scanned the room, seeing little other than what was very obviously a large two-way mirror taking up much of one wall. The door was closed and a woman stood beside the bed with an irritatingly gentle smile on her face. It was the blonde doctor. Shepard couldn't remember her name and she didn't care. Her sole concern was finding a way out of her predicament.

Her attention shifted from the blonde doctor to the two-way mirror. Instinctively she knew that those responsible for her unjustified incarceration would be watching, observing her in some sort of warped experiment.

Just the simple act of holding her head up was exhausting and Shepard flopped back down against the pillows with a huff of helpless rage. To combat the swirling anger, she closed her eyes. She remembered her poorly thought through escape attempt that had been foiled by her own mother. Her jaw clenched at the memory – a tight, potentially teeth-shattering clench of betrayal. She wanted to see Hannah Shepard again only so she could draw some satisfaction from screaming at her until her throat bled.

Her jaw eventually relaxed. Shepard discovered that it was difficult to maintain any sort of physical anger when simple things like breathing and thinking were already taxing enough. When she scraped her tongue against the roof of her mouth, it felt like sandpaper. Her tongue snaked out to lick her lips - they were dry, cracked and peeling.

"Would you like a drink?" The blonde's voice was far too cheerful and eager to suit her role as jailor.

"Yes," Shepard replied in a tight voice, not bothering with her manners.

Remembering to say 'please' and 'thank you' wasn’t a priority. Her hope was that the woman would free at least one of her hands. That would at least give her a chance to smash the cup against the side of her head, anything to give herself another chance at escape. Plan A was dashed when the doctor returned with a cup of water with a plastic straw jutting out the top. Shepard momentarily debated refusing the drink but her thirst won out. Her humiliation was complete when the blonde had to hold the straw steady for her. She waged an internal debate as to the most effective means to rebel, but everything seemed petty or futile – spitting the water in the doctor's face, refusing to drink or giving into her urge to rage vocally at what they were doing to her. Shepard settled for draining the cup dry. She maintained eye contact with the woman as she set the cup down, observing the subtle play of emotions across her face.

_I'm the one that's strapped to a damn bed wearing nothing but a paper gown and she looks...disappointed,_ Shepard thought as her jaw started to clench again. _How can the sick bitch smile while she's doing this to me?_

Fatigue gradually dampened her anger until she could no longer even summon an iota of hate towards the blonde doctor. Her churning emotions were trapped within a prison created by her own physical limitations. Shepard felt drained and empty.

_A husk_ , she thought bitterly. _I feel like a husk._

Tears were the sole outlet available to her pathetically weak body, and she had absolutely no strength to fight them. Unchecked, they carved warm paths down her cheeks as the doctor looked on. Shepard's only escape was to turn her head away.

"Hey…surely it's not quite as bad as all that." The blonde was still damnably cheerful. "You're looking awfully glum for someone who saved the entire galaxy. You should know that people call you The Shepard. You're a hero."

"I believe the term you're looking for-" Shepard began in a bitter voice "-is martyr."

"But you're still alive-"

"I was supposed to die." Shepard turned to face the blonde with an expression devoid of all emotion. "And I think your friend, the one with the moustache, made it very clear that I succeeded in that aim."

The blonde leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "Heller's an ass. Since when have you ever listened to the opinions of men like him? "

As the blonde spoke, Shepard finally remembered her name. _Dr Naomi Stone_. She saw past the carefully coifed hair and Alliance uniform to see a woman only a few years younger than herself. Her girl-next-door good looks and enthusiasm seemed entirely out of place in this hell. Dr Stone looked as though she belonged in another world, another time.

"Tell me, Dr Stone, what part of this whole fucked up situation feels like being alive to you?" Shepard demanded in a cold voice. She felt a sense of satisfaction when Stone's blithe expression slipped and she was driven to take a step backwards. "Go ahead, tell me I should be grateful just for being alive. Tell me that it shouldn't matter that I'm strapped to a bed like a criminal, that I don't know where the hell I am or why I'm being kept here. It's also fine that my own mother is a part of this whole farce. I'm alive so at least I can drink out of a straw and piss into a plastic bag!"

"Evan-"

"Don't you dare call me that!" Shepard hissed. She managed to lift her head and shoulders off the pillow as she spoke. "Not you or my mother or any one of the sick fucks in this place. Liara T'Soni thinks I am still dead because of you people. I don't care what you do to me, but the fact that you would make her suffer is cruel beyond words. I'm not going to beg…just prove to me you're not a heartless bitch and let me get in touch with my bondmate."

"I want to help you, honestly I do, but you know I can't do that," Stone explained tentatively. She kept her distance as though she feared Shepard would start raging at her again. "I'm just the doctor in charge of your day-to-day care. This goes well beyond-"

"Dammit, tell me who…how far up does this go?" Shepard demanded harshly. Her throat almost did feel like it was bleeding. She paused and drew in a breath to curb her anger. "Why are _Alliance_ personnel doing this to me?"

Stone shook her head. "I-I can't answer that."

Shepard turned her head away. "Then get the fuck out of here.”

Faced with such unrestrained hate, Stone fled immediately. Shepard listened – firstly to the sound of the doctor's hurried footsteps tapping against the floor and then to the decisive sound of a heavy door sliding shut. In the silence that followed, she heard her quiet exhale rattle as it left her throat.

Several minutes passed during which Stone did not return and Shepard could only lie on her back staring up at the ceiling. A few times her gaze wandered to the two-way mirror, but it was in the wrong position for her to be able to catch a glimpse of herself and the thought of being watched like some sort of experiment or freak show left her feeling sick to her stomach. Eventually there was nothing to do other than close her eyes.

Silence was impossible to find in the swirling chaos. Her memories and emotions were like a group of people all clamouring to be heard over one another. The underlying current was the wretched sense of unfairness that she had survived the Crucible only to end up in hell anyway.

"Liara."

The whisper was barely audible but Shepard needed to say her name out loud. A part of her hoped that she would feel some sense of connection to her bondmate, regardless whatever distance separated them. There was nothing other than a dull ache of pain which she was certain was entirely her own. The meagre sob that burst from her lips confirmed as much. She choked it back before more could follow, feeling disgusted with herself that she would let the situation overwhelm her so easily.

_Stone was right. You're still alive aren't you?_ Shepard demanded of herself. _If you’re alive, then you can find a way out of this situation._

Shepard's train of thought was interrupted by the door. Her eyes remained closed and her facial muscles slack as she listened to the sound of footsteps. They were too heavy to be Dr Stone. Eventually someone stopped at her bedside. Even though she could not see whoever it was, she felt the force of their gaze as they watched her. There was the discreet sound of clothing rustling and a second later Shepard's eyes opened the moment she felt the unmistakable chill of a gun barrel being pressed against her temple. She found Dr Heller staring down at her with an intense expression on his thin face. She did not react further. A sadistic part of her actually preferred Heller's pistol to the head over Stone's optimistic demeanour.

"Just giving you a little taste of your own behaviour," he said as he twisted the barrel against her skin.

"You expect a marine to react to having a pistol pointed at her head? This isn't even the worst way I've ever woken up," Shepard said. She managed a smile and thoroughly enjoying the resulting sneer that played across Heller's lips.

"No, I don't expect that it is," he said quietly. "But it does serve to remind you that every breath you take is solely at the discretion of others. If it were up to me, I'd slit you open in a heartbeat. I'm not interested in you, so much as what's _inside_ you. Studying all that tech contained within your carcass would be infinitely easier if you were less alive."

Shepard had little energy to be impressed by his threats. "Do you expect me to be grateful that you're not in charge?"

Without any form of warning, Heller lunged forward and pressed his forearm against Shepard's throat. With her arms restrained, her sole means of defence was to glare defiantly as her airway was severely constricted. He grinned as he listened to her gasping attempts to breathe.

"Does it hurt to be so valiant, or did someone programme you to be a self-righteous puppet?" Heller pressed forward, completely restricting her ability to breathe. "Or are you really just a scared little girl? I saw the way you crumpled and fell into Mummy's arms."

As Heller's weight disappeared from her throat, Shepard could do nothing other than give him the satisfaction of hearing her draw in deep, gasping breaths. She lay panting as he set the pistol down on the table next to her empty cup before turning his attention back to her. Her gaze remained stubbornly fixed on the ceiling as she listened to him pull on a pair of thin plastic gloves. Without warning, he grasped the IV line in her arm and yanked it out. Shepard did not so much as bat an eyelid.

"If that one didn't hurt, this next one will," Heller promised.

Although Shepard fought not to look at him, she could not help but see his grin broadening as he peeled back the paper gown covering her otherwise naked body. Keeping her body limp, she feigned complete indifference as he spread her thighs apart. While the rough fingertips of his left hand parted her sex, he grasped the second tube protruding from her body with his right. Her best intentions to ignore what he was doing to her were shattered by the pain that accompanied the withdrawal of the catheter. Despite her best efforts to stifle her cry, it forced its way out between her gritted teeth in a half-scream, half-grunt.

By far the most humiliating aspect of the procedure was the leering, satisfied grin on his face. With tears of rage and pain stinging her eyes, Shepard rolled her head to one side. She could take comfort only in the fact that she did not react when drops of a pungent, warm liquid splashed against her face.

"Hmph!" Heller grunted, most likely disappointed by the lack of reaction from his patient. "No thanks, Shepard? Ungrateful bitch."

When the door closed behind Heller, Shepard finally gave into the emotions she'd kept a determined stranglehold over whilst in his presence. Several sobs tumbled over one another in their haste to escape her lips. As she cried, she angrily scrubbed her face against the pillow in an effort to dry the urine from her skin. To add a final insult, Heller had also seen fit to leave the paper gown bunched up around her waist.

Shepard's eyes felt crusty and sore by the time she had cried herself out. Their red-rimmed pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache in her gut. Any anger she felt had long since ebbed, replaced by a certainty of helplessness and an overwhelming desire for the nightmare to somehow end. She'd been awake for a few hours at most, and already the experience had driven her deeper into despair than she'd ever been in her life. Even after losing Liara on Alcyone she'd kept going out of a sense of duty. With the war over, there was nothing other than the hope that someone would make the call to harvest the Reaper tech and end her life.

Furious at her own internal thoughts, Shepard sniffed back the latest bout of tears and fixed her gaze squarely on the ceiling. _Don't you dare give up. Liara's still out there somewhere_. Shepard knew without a doubt that if she could somehow get word to Liara that she was still alive, then the asari would tear apart both heaven and hell to find her. _No more tears,_ she promised herself. _Regardless of whatever twisted games that bastard is playing_.

As time dragged, there was nothing for her to do other than drift in and out of sleep. Shepard spent her time trying to grasp fleeting memories but most of the time they danced just out of reach. The only ones that she could see and feel with any clarity were the events that had happened since she woke up. Each time she jerked awake, there were only a few seconds when she did not know where she was. Eventually she would try to move one of her limbs and feel the reminder that she was strapped to the bed. The glass of water Stone had given her seemed like an eternity ago and her stomach rumbled with actual hunger pains.

Her entire body tensed when she heard the door open again. She allowed herself a small sigh of relief when she lifted her head from the pillow to see that it was Stone. The blonde doctor had the decency to blush when she noticed the position of Shepard's gown. She crossed the room quickly and, with a no-nonsense motion, she tugged it back down.

"I'm sorry," Shepard said. She thought her voice sounded different – subdued, beaten. "For what I said."

Stone shook her head quickly. Several strands of blonde hair fell forward over her face. "No…it's understandable. Waking up to find yourself here. It must seem like a nightmare. What happened?”

"Heller," was all Shepard offered by way of explanation.

The doctor winced sympathetically. "I am terribly sorry. Dr Heller is…well, he is what he is. The best I can do is caution you to be very careful around him..." She paused and frowned thoughtfully. "Although…would you like a shower?"

With her eyebrows lifted in surprise, Shepard could only respond with a nod that she hoped was not too eager.

Stone began unstrapping the restraints that held Shepard's wrists. It would have been effortless for one hand to dart out. She'd wrap her fingers around the woman's neck and squeeze. She already suspected that her new left hand was stronger than mere flesh and bone. The crystalline fingers twitched as Stone released the hand. However instead of trying to murder Stone, she settled for rubbing her aching wrists, shivering at the way the marble texture felt against her ordinary skin.

"I'll get one of the orderlies to change your bedding," Stone offered. "If you promise to behave, I don't see any reason why you should continue to be restrained."

Some small part of Shepard was starting to feel human again. "Thank you."

With her wrists bound in a simple plastic restraint, Shepard shuffled slowly along the corridor beside Stone. She needed the doctor's arm around her waist to remain upright on her unsteady legs. An Alliance private trailed a metre or so behind them. Even outside the room, it was impossible for her to gain any sense of location or scale, not when all she could see were uniformly standard doors and corridors. For the moment, she was content to let the prospect of a hot shower outweigh everything else – even the image of ripping Heller's throat out.

Shepard was grateful to find that there was no mirror in the bathroom. She did not want to face her own image – not yet anyway. With some difficulty, she managed to strip the paper gown from her body and step into the featureless white shower cubicle. However, she was so busy struggling to turn on the tap, that she did not notice that Stone was standing directly behind her with a blank expression on her face. Shepard was unable to enjoy the warmth of the water cascading over her naked body beneath such scrutiny. It was only when Stone pointed to the water that she understood the doctor was trying to mask their conversation.

"Tell me why they're doing this to me!" Shepard whispered urgently. "Is this a black ops cell that’s gone rogue, or some secretive R & D department with off the book funding?"

Stone shook her head sadly. "You don't understand." Her whisper was so quiet, Shepard had to strain to hear what she was saying. "This operation is secret, but it’s fully sanctioned…Evan, this is the _Alliance_."

Shepard could not contain her scorn. "I don't believe you. Why the hell would they do this to me? Where is Hackett, Anderson?"

"Anderson was...ugh!" Stone's face twisted in frustration. "Look...I tell you anything and they'll just take me off your case and find another doctor – probably one who isn't as sympathetic to you.”

"And you are sympathetic?" Shepard demanded. "Why?"

Stone sighed. "You don't remember me do you?"

Shepard frowned. As the water flowed over her head and face, she studied the other woman. There was still no hint of recognition. She slowly shook her head.

"March 2177…the Citadel…Purgatory?" Stone prompted quietly. The doctor was standing too close to the stream of water and her sleeve was soaked.

The water hammered against Shepard's skin like a balm.

_March 2177._

It was a lifetime ago but Shepard needed no further prompting to remember why the date was significant. It was a month after the massacre on Akuze. She'd been released from extended psych evaluation after having blagged her way to a clean bill of mental health. Much of what she said had been very well constructed lies. The screams of her unit still echoed in her mind and she'd used her shore leave to lose herself in a haze of alcohol and mindless, detached sex.

She accessed scattered memories – mostly short flashes as opposed to anything substantial. The young blonde woman had not been the most gorgeous woman in the club that evening, but there had been something about her. And Shepard wanted her. In the woman’s eyes, she’d found the innocence that she desperately wanted to reclaim for herself. She'd had to settle for claiming the woman instead. Naomi had wanted to dance. Shepard obliged by pushing her into a dark corner and dancing the only way she knew how. Later they'd found a cheap hotel in one of the lower wards. It was at that point that her memories fragmented into a haze where Shepard was only certain of two things – they'd fucked and she'd left several hours later.

_Of all the places to run into a one night stand – naked in a fucking shower cubicle._ Shepard did not know how to interpret this information. As she searched Stone's face for any hints, she kept flashing back to an image of her with her head tilted back and mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure.

Stone saw the recognition and her cheeks coloured slightly. "You do remember. And here I was thinking that you were the type of soldier that walked away and never looked back."

_That's precisely what I_ did _do._ "Dr Stone…Naomi, it was one night…almost a decade ago. I don't know what you were expecting, but it meant nothing to me other than a brief escape." As she kept her eyes locked on the other woman's, inwardly her mind was working as she tried to fathom what angle she could possibly be playing. _Why bring it up? Why treat me with anything other than indifference?_ The one thing Shepard could not allow herself to dwell on just yet was the faint possibility that this offered her a chance.

The other woman looked mildly insulted. "Please, I'm not so naïve as to believe otherwise. But I caught a brief glimpse of you, Evan Shepard…before you were Hero of the Citadel and Saviour of the Galaxy. I know who you are and I want to do everything in my power to help you now. Call it payback for the night we shared."

"You know what I need, Naomi." As she kept her eyes on the other woman, Shepard picked up the cleansing gel and a scrubbing pad. She poured a liberal amount of gel over her body and began to scour her skin with renewed intensity. "I need to get the hell out of here-"

"I can't-"

"Then at least get a message to Liara T'Soni," Shepard urged. "It doesn't matter that you don't know where she is. Just get it somewhere on the extranet, bury it, code it, it doesn't matter. Liara will find it and she'll do the rest."

"I can't make any promises, but I'll do my best," the doctor replied in a tentative voice – her fear was obvious. She looked away as Shepard closed her eyes and began scrubbing at her long, dark hair. "You seem very confident of T'Soni's abilities,"

"Not just her abilities." _Her love._

* * *

 

In an attempt to feel a sense of tactile contact, Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard pressed the palm of her hand against the cool surface of the glass. Figures moved on the other side of the window. She watched, transfixed, as a blonde woman wearing an Alliance science uniform helped her daughter into a pair of navy-issue jogging trousers. Although it had only been several days since she had last seen her, Hannah had to admit that Evan looked as though she had started to regain some colour and weight. Her movements were still sluggish and uncoordinated, but she managed to tug the pants up herself. She had to stifle an odd mix of pride and nostalgia that crept up on her. How many times had Hannah herself helped her child with the same action? It would had been almost three decades ago, from a young age her stubborn daughter had insisted on being left to dress herself. It was only a few years later that Hannah had lost her altogether as she allowed herself to become consumed with her work at the expense of a relationship with her daughter.

Eventually she had to look away, and find something else to focus on lest she do something foolish like start crying. Her gaze lingered on the second person in the small room, but she could not read his emotionless features. Beneath his thick, black eyebrows, his grey eyes were as dark as slate.

"Admiral Kessler, sir?" Hannah was grateful her voice emerged without a catch. "Permission to be excused."

"Seen enough, Shepard?" Kessler turned to regard her with that stony glare.

"I have pressing work to do. I doubt that the situation here will change." Hannah's own voice sounded cold to her ears.

"The subject does appear to be more docile that reports had led me to believe," Kessler agreed.

"What happened a few days ago was an isolated incident, nothing more. She was scared-"

Kessler's grunt interrupted her. "What if she actually manages to shoot people the next time she's scared…or hormonal? I may have acquiesced to Dr Stone's request to wake her up, but I will not hesitate to shut down this programme if matters get out of hand. You do understand that this arrangement is temporary at best, Admiral Shepard? Unless you are so desperate to keep your daughter alive that you would allow her to spend the rest of her life like this?"

"With all due respect, sir. I disagree. If she becomes more malleable to Alliance tenets-"

A brief laugh snorted from Kessler's nose as opposed to his mouth. "She's your daughter, I would have thought that you would understand the impossibility of that happening more than most."

The Rear Admiral bristled slightly. In all truth Evan had ceased to be her daughter in anything except name the moment she had helped recapture her. Hannah knew her well enough to know that Evan would never ever forgive her for such a betrayal, regardless of the motives behind her actions.

"She will understand the importance of these steps…for humanity as a whole," Hannah tried to protest.

"Hannah, I've known you for over thirty years and I know that you don't believe a word of what you're saying." Kessler remained unimpressed. He jabbed a thick finger towards the two-way mirror where a fully-clothed Evan was resolutely attempting to hold a plastic spoon in her hand so she could feed herself. "I would think that you of all people would realise that _Commander_ Shepard has done more for harmonious galactic relations than anyone else since First Contact. That woman almost single-handedly cured the fucking genophage, she's practically a krogan deity. She managed to get krogan soldiers to hold the line on Palaven so she's also a goddamned hero to the turians. To top it all off, she's married to one of those blue slu-" Kessler cut his own tirade short. He lowered his hand and puffed out his already massive chest. "-one of those _asari_. Somehow I don't think she is going to support our new galactic policies."

Kessler continued, "Regardless of the dissenters amongst our ranks, the decision was made by those entrusted with the responsibility for ensuring the survival of our race. The krogan are consumed with their own internal power struggles, the turian hierarchy was all but decimated to the point where it will take generations to restore and the asari are still grieving for what they have lost rather than making an attempt to rebuild." His voice took on a note of satisfaction. "Despite the fact that we were the first planet hit, humanity was resilient enough to begin the rebuilding process with unmatched vigour. Our military is no longer outmatched by the turians. However, if this is ultimately going to work, if humanity are going to be _the_ dominant power in the galaxy it requires a certain level of ruthlessness. Unfortunately, one of the casualties will be Commander Shepard. The Alliance simply cannot afford to have _The Shepard_ preaching galactic cooperation. She'll remain at this facility," Kessler said with finality. "As a martyr she cannot disagree with our portrayal of her. Her legacy will say exactly what we need it to say."

"I understand," Hannah replied.

For a few more moments she turned her attention back to the room on the other side of the mirror. Evan was still seated on the edge of her bed, methodically shovelling spoonfuls of thick protein substance into her mouth. Every so often she paused to take a sip of water from a nearby glass. When by chance her gaze lifted, she seemed to be staring directly at her mother. Hannah felt a chill run through her body before forced herself to remain calm. Evan couldn't see her, it was just pure coincidence. However, she had to look away before that haunting gaze became seared inside her mind.

"Admiral Shepard…Hannah, you know full well you can have your pick of assignments," her old friend eventually spoke. "Why remain here-"

"This is my duty, sir," Hannah replied firmly. "And I'll see that it's carried out to the letter."

* * *

 

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

" _I don't want to," she heard Shepard say quietly. The soldier's tone was stubborn, almost petulant._

_Liara did not understand. "You do not want to what?"_

" _Move on." Shepard said as she slapped her palm against the door leading out of the Shadow Broker's office. As she stepped out she turned over her shoulder and said one last thing. "I've never stopped loving you, Liara."_

Liara fought to hold onto the image of Shepard she remembered from that moment. It was in the wake of the mission to Menae where she had narrowly avoided ending up as Brute fodder. Shepard had saved her life and then promptly sent her back to the _Normandy_ because of her wounds. They'd quarrelled bitterly about that decision and the subsequent conversation had dredged up a myriad of grievances that they had both packed around themselves like armour. Liara remembered the sick feeling in her stomach when Shepard confirmed her physical relationship with Miranda Lawson. No matter how the soldier had tried to explain it, Liara was unable to see rationality within her argument. She clearly remembered the vehemence in Shepard's tone, her anger as she tried to justify her actions to someone who was unable to admit that she was wrong. The turning point had been initiated when Liara broke beneath Shepard's anger, unable to continue to flaying already raw wounds to drive an even larger wedge between them. She had essentially admitted that she was still in love with Shepard. It was an admission that had almost destroyed her to make as she had the horrible feeling that Shepard no longer felt the same way. The Commander's parting words had thrown everything upside down. It marked the final halt to the downward spiral in their relationship.

As Liara remembered Shepard standing by the door, she could clearly picture the fragile, but hopeful expression on her face. The war had been relatively young. Shepard's hair still tumbled down around her cheeks and she was actually dressed in a clean uniform. The Citadel was still intact, Liara's father was still alive, and Shepard was still weeks from making the decision that would lead to her death.

Even as she struggled to maintain her hold on Shepard's parting words, she felt the memory slip from her grasp. When it was gone, Liara's eyes opened slowly. She was perched on a wide rock that jutted out into the smooth surface of the lake. There was nothing in front of her save for the dark surface of the water. The few sounds she could hear were almost imperceptible – distant bird calls and the slight rustling of leaves. For the first time in the five months that she had spent at Aria's compound, Liara had ventured out of sight of her home. The days of inactivity were dragging to the point where she had failed to even get out of bed the day before. Her network remained dark, the training programmes unused and the food supplies untouched. The one determined act she had performed was to finally take out the photo that she had kept in a drawer for so long and set it beside her bed.

Shepard seldom posed for photos unless ordered to during official engagements. This particular image was a rare candid shot captured three years earlier on board the _Normandy_ SR-1. Liara had to guess she'd taken it sometime between the missions to Noveria and Virmire and it had languished, forgotten, on her omni-tool for months. It was a poor shot, Shepard wasn't even looking at her when the photo had been taken. She was staring off at some unknown point with a pensive expression.

It was one of the few physical pictures she possessed. Most of what she kept of Shepard remained in her mind. She could summon memories and emotions from their melds – all bittersweet of course, but still evidence that they had had a life together. Of late the memories were becoming difficult to control. While they began as fully formed, they soon began to come apart at the seams. As she struggled to hold onto them, they fractured into pieces. Unbidden, her nightmares wove themselves into the fabric in some twisted attempt to create a whole. The memories became grotesque parodies of the life that they had shared.

Liara stared down at the mirrored surface of the water below her and saw her own face reflected back at her. She studied the reflection for a few moments, noting with disgust that she appeared decades if not centuries older than her 109 years. Her skin was stretched taut across her bones, her cheeks were little more than sunken hollows and the clothes she wore swallowed her skeletal frame. When the view became too difficult, she shifted slightly to fold her legs beneath her in a more comfortable position. Her eyes slid closed and she attempted to find some sort of peace and cohesion in her meditation.

_You just need to concentrate_ , she urged herself desperately. Liara reached for another memory. Her concentration was already badly frayed, but she feared that if she did not establish some form of control then the nightmares would completely devour her memories. As Liara slipped into a memory at random, too late she realised that it was one of their lovemaking.

_The walls of Shepard's cabin on the Normandy SR-1 formed in her mind and an unbidden heat immediately sparked and caught fire in the pit of her stomach. They were both naked in the middle of Shepard's bed, sheets and clothing strewn haphazardly around them. Shepard sat crossed legged while she straddled her lap, riding the fingers that filled her so completely. Shepard's other hand grasped the nape of her neck. Every finger seemed to be skilfully applying pressure to an area of sensitive flesh somewhere on or within her body. It was all Liara could do to wrap her arms around her lover's neck and hold on as she ground her hips in an incessant, desperate motion. Everything was too much. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back with wild abandon. She did not even recognise the cries coming from her own throat._

" _Hey," Shepard's gentle whisper brought her back. "I want you to look at me."_

_Without ceasing her movements, Liara managed to restore a measure of coherence to her thoughts and control over her body. Both came easier when she found the cool calm within Shepard's light blue eyes. The sensations cascading through her body were no longer a scrambled mess. She was aware of everything happening to her – of Shepard's thumb pressing down hard against the nape of her neck and the taut tips of her sweaty breasts moving against her abdomen. Liara realised that at some point Shepard had added a third finger to the two already moving inside her. She ground her hips downwards and felt their length move against her slick internal walls._

" _E-Evan," the name was dragged from her lips in a single, hoarse breath. "I cannot…"_

_Despite the Commander's control, she felt overwhelmed by the intensity of staring into her eyes as she fucked her. She felt as though her entire existence was hovering on the brink, scant moments away from crashing down around her._

" _Liara…focus on me," Shepard said. "My voice."_

_Shepard drove her fingers deep inside. Liara cried out, her head lolled from side to side and her eyes started to slide closed once again as she felt the hunger building inside her. With a determined grunt, she forced her eyes open again and she found Shepard's. The intensity only increased as her hips bucked against Shepard's hand. Sweat pooled between her heaving breasts as she drove herself towards orgasm._

_Beneath her, Shepard strained to keep up. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," she whispered with an expression that was half a smile, half grimace._

_When it came, Liara's orgasm was all consuming. She lost her struggle to hold onto Shepard's gaze as her head tilted back once again and a drawn-out scream emerged from her throat. The sound was raw, primal and piercing. It was only when the last of the shudders had subsided that she was able to open her eyes again. The lingering pleasure was instantly replaced by an awful chill when she looked down at Shepard. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream at the sight of her own arm impaled within the Commander's raw, bloody chest. Although Shepard's pale blue eyes were still focused on her, they were brimming with horror and unshed tears. Blood bubbled from the corners of her lips._

" _Goddess, no!" Liara's anguished cry filled her ears._

"Goddess!"

As she wrenched herself free of the memory Liara collapsed forward onto her hands and knees. Her stomach tried to expel something solid but all that emerged after several violent heaves was a stream of thin, green liquid. Her head hung limply over the water beneath her as she gasped desperately for every breath. It did not help that she had begun to cry, great racking sobs that caused nothing but pain as they shook her fragile body.

_I am not strong enough to do this without you, Evan_ , she thought bitterly. This was one final, cruel torment. Her memories - the most precious remnant of Shepard that she thought no one could ever take from her, had been corrupted. As she struggled to get herself under control, Liara drew in a series of deep, sucking breaths. _Focus, T'Soni…breathe._

" _Liara…focus on me. My voice."_

Shepard's strong, confident voice ought to have provided the perfect anchor, but the harder she tried, the more difficult it became to grasp her words. Liara cringed at the thought of sinking into any of her vile memories again. She then tried to focus on her own reflection but her vision swam in and out of focus to the point where the creature staring back at her was unrecognisable as anything other than a monster.

Liara lost herself in the skeletal face with its teeth bared in a primal grin. It was mocking her weakness. The dead, grey skin seemed to slough from her face in the moments before it opened its mouth and screamed.

Dead fingers suddenly burst from the still water, wrapping around her head. She felt the talons pierce her skin in the moments before it dragged her downwards. When Liara hit the icy water, all the air was instantly driven from her lungs by the shock. She attempted to draw in more air, but water mercilessly filled her mouth instead. The cold was like a thousand knives piercing her skin at once. As she thrashed, she caught several glimpses of light above her, but the darkness continued to pull at her limbs, tugging her body downwards into the depths.

With a flood of relief, Liara realised that the screaming in her head had finally stopped. When she closed her eyes, she found the blissful silence she craved.

 


	6. Survival is the Spirit

**Location Withheld**

Everything erupted in violence. Cruel talons pierced the tender flesh on her body. The harder she struggled, the deeper the grip became. She desperately needed to draw a breath, but the much-needed air would not come. Instead her lungs filled with water so cold that it sent stabbing pains radiating throughout her entire body.

Then everything was gone – the talons, the pain and the need to breathe – and only darkness remained. With the gradual onset of a sense of peace, acceptance finally started to take hold.

 _No_.

Everything was wrong. Although it had been chillingly cold, there had been no water to fill her lungs in the emptiness over Alchera. There had been no peace as she died. Instead she had fought, clinging desperately to the last scraps of life because she had something to live for. It was with that realisation that the nightmare started to unravel. As she clawed her way to consciousness, Shepard realised that it did not belong to her. The last glimpse she saw in the midst of that peace was her hand drifting limply in front of her fading vision. The skin was blue.

Shepard bolted upright and drew in deep, sucking breaths. The single word came out as half-strangled croak that sounded less like an actual word and more like cry.

"Liara!"

Shepard found herself in her prison cell. The overhead lights had been dimmed slightly for sleeping, but they still illuminated every crevice of the room. It meant that her jailors were always watching.

She swung her bare legs over the side of the bed and hang her head, clutching at it in both hands as though trying to make sense of something.

For some reason, Shepard felt that what she had just experienced was no ordinary nightmare. It had been terrifying and real enough, but those experiences were not her own. Somehow, despite whatever distance separated them, her bond with Liara had finally triggered. Shepard did not know whether Liara had felt her in return, all she did know was that something terrible had happened to her bondmate. It had felt as though she had been drowning. Regardless of whether it was a literal interpretation of something that was actually happening, Liara was in life-threatening pain.

Her bare feet hit the cold floor and she lurched toward the two-way mirror. With clenched fists, she began pummelling against it in an urgent beat. With the lights dimmed on her side, she could see the faint outline of someone observing her. Whoever it was did not move even as she continued to pound her fists against the glass.

"You have to let me out!" As Shepard screamed at the top of her lungs, flecks of spittle hit the mirror. A small part of her acknowledged the futility of her demands. She knew that she could scream and beat at the glass for hours until she lost her voice and her hands were bruised, but still they would not release her from the sterile prison. However, accepting her reality paled in comparison to the danger she _knew_ Liara was in. "Please let me out!"

Placing her hands over her head and digging her fingertips into her scalp, Shepard paced a few steps back from the glass. She scanned the room in which they kept her. The furnishings were minimal. Save for the bed she slept in and the fixed toilet in the corner, everything was plastic – the bedside table and the pitcher which held her water. She renewed her attack on the mirror with something approaching a frenzied state – smashing her foot, her shoulder, and her head, anything that could have a chance of shattering the glass.

"Come you fucking prick, I can see you standing there for fuck's sake!" she yelled as she finally gave in and unleashed her left fist on the glass without restraint.

Shepard felt only a dull impact reverberate throughout her body as the crystalline appendage slammed into the glass with a solid thunk. In the wake of the strike, she saw that a single, small crack had appeared on the otherwise unblemished surface. She immediately resumed pounding against the glass with her left hand, cursing the fact that she lacked the strength to be able to put any decent power behind her punches.

She had managed to create several broad cracks in the thick glass when the lights suddenly went up to their full strength and the door to her room opened.

"Stand down, Shepard!" a harsh voice demanded.

Shepard turned to see three Alliance soldiers entering her room, all three of whom had stun pistols aimed in her direction.

"You need to let me out of here," she said, her voice trembling with rage and exhaustion as she approached them. "Someone is in danger."

They were all unmoved by her plea. The nearest yelled at her again, "Get down on the ground, now!"

Although she had absolutely no desire to hurt the men, they were standing between her and a possible avenue of escape. She lifted her hands above her head and began to kneel at a deliberately slow pace. Obviously eager to get back to whatever he would rather be doing at that moment in time, the nearest approached her with an irritated huff. Shepard waited until he was within striking distance before making her move. Her hands darted forward, her left wrapped around the hand that held his weapon. The artificial fingers squeezed in a crushing grip even as they wrenched the weapon from his hand. As soon as he let it go, Shepard drove her right fist up into his gut. She rolled, grunting as her almost bare shoulder slammed into the hard ground. A stun discharge narrowly missed her moving body as she bounced lightly into a kneeling position and fired. As the bolt hit the nearest squarely in the chest, he screamed and dropped like a stone. However, before she could put down the second, Shepard felt a weight slam into her body. Her snap judgment that she'd made to rule the first soldier out of the fight had been wrong. Even with a broken hand, he managed to knock her off balance. Her second shot narrowly missed the third soldier. At such close range, his own shot did not miss. The discharge slammed into Shepard's shoulder, whirling her around and throwing her to the floor. Although the pain was intense, she did not cry out. A knee was jammed in her back while both her hands were wrenched together and bound. The slug had been more than enough to put down a fully fit adult, but a part of Shepard was still able to struggle against the hands that tried to restrain her.

"Where the hell is the doc?" one demanded. With the pain clearly evident in his voice, Shepard guessed it was the one whose hand she had broken.

"Shoot her again for christ's sake, Yamada!"

"Put that goddamn weapon away, soldier!" Shepard immediately recognised Dr Stone's voice.

"With all due respect, ma'am-"

"You shoot her again you could kill her!" Stone said harshly.

With one cheek jammed hard against the floor, Shepard watched as the blonde doctor knelt at her side. "Naomi…please, Liara's in danger." She felt cold hands grabbing at her arm, followed by the sharp prick of a needle as it entered a vein. "No! Don't sedate me, I just need…"

The sedative was exceptionally fast working. Only a few seconds after Stone withdrew the needle, she felt herself lose control over all her limbs. Her entire body went limp.

"I'm sorry, Evan," were the last words she heard Stone say as unconsciousness dragged her downwards into oblivion.

_Please don't give up, Liara!_

* * *

 

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

The peace Liara had felt was cruelly shattered by the fierce fire burning in her lungs. Angry at being dragged out of the dream in which she had been reunited with Shepard, she fought to return to it. However, someone would not let her sleep. She felt lips close over her own and drive air into her mouth. The lips were rough and the surrounding skin prickly. Liara's first instinct was to summon her biotics so she could force her attacker away but the desperate need to breathe outweighed everything else. With a gasp, her lungs constricted painfully and she started choking instead of breathing.

"Let it out, kid, let it out."

Firm hands rolled her over onto her side. Liara's entire body heaved to expel the water that filled her lungs. As it bubbled forth over her lips, she felt as though her stomach lining was being ripped out along with it.

It was all she was aware of for several minutes as she struggled with finding herself back in the pain of her reality. As her breathing returned to something approaching regularity, Liara gradually became aware of the smell of wet earth beneath her. She could not feel her limbs. There was nothing other than an all-consuming cold that seemed to be eating away at her body from the inside out.

"C-c-cold." Her teeth were chattering so severely it was difficult to force the simple word out.

"I'm not surprised." Liara thought she recognised the male voice from somewhere, but she could not bring herself to care. Nor could she summon any willpower to fight back as she felt herself being prised from the earth and up into a strong pair of arms. "Not exactly the best time of the year to take a swim."

In her delirious state, Liara found herself instinctively burrowing close to the warmth offered by the body that held her. It smelled of smoke and sweat. As hurried movements lulled her into a half-sleep she lost all urge to fight back. She could understand on some level that this person was trying to help her, regardless of her own wishes – whatever those wishes had been. Liara did not know whether she had truly wanted everything to end. All she knew was that she had managed to find peace for the first time since Shepard's death and it had felt amazing.

At some stage, as she drifted in and out of consciousness, she became aware of an artificial surface tapping beneath booted feet. This struck the still capable part of her mind as almost impossible since the only artificial element of the landscape was her own compound. There was no way this stranger could possibly gain access. Nevertheless, as her limp body was lowered onto a soft surface, Liara caught flashes of familiar surfaces.

"How..." she whispered.

"Answers later, kid. We've got to get you out of these wet things and into something warm."

Being warm sounded like an unattainable goal. Having long since lost all feeling in her limbs, Liara was fast approaching the point where she could no longer feel the rest of her body. Her head felt like it was on the verge of exploding and she was dimly aware of her heart struggling with each beat. When firm hands began dragging off the sodden wet clothes that clung to her body, she was too tired to either help or care that she was being stripped naked by a stranger. Eventually she felt her limbs being swathed in something soft and dry.

It was only after an undefined amount of time had passed that she became aware of the rest of her body. Firm fingers were massaging a measure of feeling back into her feet. At first she continued to float in a pleasant sort of haze. As she felt the skin of her own stomach beneath one of her hands, she was grateful it felt warm to the touch. After being colder than she had ever been in her life, the warmth felt almost alien. It took her some time to realise that she was completely naked – even her underwear had been discarded. Her eyes jerked open to find her body swaddled within the cover from her own bed. The only limb protruding was her right foot. It currently rested in the lap of the human male she had attacked a few days earlier. He looked relieved when he saw the she was awake. It was a sentiment Liara could not share, she yanked her foot out of his grasp and drew the cover around her like a shield. She would have summoned her biotics, but just thinking about it gave her a headache. When she shifted her body slightly, a sharp pain stabbed just below her left breast.

"Sorry about that, kid," he said as he saw her wince. "One of your ribs is probably broken."

Liara gingerly moved her hand up her stomach, skin sliding against bare skin. Her eyes eventually widened in realisation. "I am naked!" she whispered in horror. "You..."

"Yeah...your clothes needed to come off." He shrugged, hardly seeming apologetic. "Although I must admit, I didn't expect you to be so prudish. I've been to Thessia and I've seen what asari call 'fully-clothed."

Liara lacked the strength to summon anything other than a smouldering fury. Her gaze drifted over the interior of her compound. She saw her discarded wet clothes lying in a pile in the middle of the floor. The fact that she was naked suddenly paled in comparison to the fact that the human had managed to simply stroll into a building with the most advanced security that money could buy. She felt weak and helpless despite the sympathetic expression on his rugged face. The human had stripped off his own coat and probably several other external layers to the point where he was clad in just a tight thermal garment. Beneath it she could make out a body that was wiry and muscular. His damp, grey hair was plastered to his head. Although he had to have been cold himself, he appeared not to notice or at least not to care.

"How the hell did you get in here?" she demanded.

"You'd think I'd be able to get into my own bloody home," he replied with a grin.

Liara's mouth widened into an 'o' of surprise. "Your home..."

He nodded toward the view beyond the window. "You didn't actually think that the Queen of Omega suddenly decided that she wanted to get back to nature did you? That bitch wouldn't know how to appreciate natural beauty if someone slapped her in the face with it. No, this is my little piece of paradise and you, my dear Dr T'Soni, are my guest."

"How do you know Aria?" Liara asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What is she to you that you would just let her usurp your home to give to a complete stranger?"

"Well you're not a complete stranger are you, I've seen you naked after all." He appeared slightly guilty when she narrowed her eyes in his direction. "I might have lied to you the other day," he eventually admitted. "I said my name was Peter Massey. That was a load of bullshit."

As an information broker, Liara had been privy to a great deal of information over the years. Although not every single fact stayed put in her head, she still managed to retain a mound of trivial and not so trivial facts. Liara slowly recalled something she had once heard about Aria T'Loak taking a human lover for almost a decade. Although she couldn't be sure, the facts were starting to add up. "You're Pericles Macklin," she offered quietly.

He winced at the use of his rather unwieldy name. "Please, it's just Mack," he insisted. "So, you've heard about me?"

Liara nodded. "Although very little...other than that you were a renowned mercenary captain...and Aria's human lover."

Mack nodded with a rueful smile. "I may not look it now, but at one time I wasn't too shabby in the looks department – you might have even called me handsome. My relationship with Aria ended a hell of a long time ago – well, a long time for me anyway – but it’s not exactly something you can let go. For a human, being with an asari...it's difficult to explain-"

He suddenly cut himself off for which Liara was grateful. She did not want to have to explain about her own relationship with a human. Pushing her dead soldier to the back of her mind, Liara analysed the situation in which she now found herself. She was furious that Aria had managed to exert her control over her self-imposed exile without her knowledge. For all her resources as the Shadow Broker, she had been completely blind to the way in which she had been manipulated. Now she was wearing nothing but bed clothes in a home that was never hers to begin with.

"That lying bitch," Liara cursed. "I helped her take back Omega and you are telling me that she has repaid me with a web of lies!"

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that," Mack spoke up. "Although she'd never admit it herself, Aria doesn't hate you."

"That is hardly comforting," Liara muttered.

"I'd take it as a compliment," Mack suggested "You're not likely to get anything better. Anyway, if she hadn't tasked me with looking out for you, you'd be lying at the bottom of that lake right now. That’s not a place you wanted to be, not as young as you are."

 _I think I did_ , Liara thought as she turned her head to gaze out on the imposing surface of the lake. It was still, peaceful, betraying none of the violence she had felt as she was dragged beneath its surface. "Who are you to decide that for me? Just because I am young, does not mean that I want to have to live the rest of my life." She turned back to face the human. There was an impassive expression on his face that betrayed absolutely nothing. "You cannot possibly understand what it feels like to have centuries of loneliness stretching out in front of you."

Mack shook his head. "No, can't say that I do, but this short-lived human does understand a few things. If you'd been serious about trying to kill yourself, kid, you would have put a gun to your head and pulled the trigger. So there has to be something out there that's keeping you alive."

* * *

 

**London, Earth**

He wasn't sure whether the coffee he was drinking was any better than the swill he liked to consume before the war. As time passed, it became difficult to remember the world as it once had been. Although he knew that it had been full of promise and the laughter of his children, that time was now just a memory and the few tattered photographs that he had managed to save.

David Codrington drained the last dregs of coffee, grateful at least that it had been hot. He gathered up his grimy hardhat and stepped out of his tent. Over the past few weeks, work had progressed exceedingly rapidly on the new stretch of pipeline connecting central London with the Honor Oak reservoir. His superiors were pleased with progress and essentially left him to his own devices. As long as the work was completed, they had no complaints.

In reality, David was rapidly losing enthusiasm for his work. For months, it had been all that kept him going. The intensity of slogging it out through and beneath the war-ravaged streets of London was back-breaking and soul-sapping, but his crew had been with him every step of the way. They were good men and women who looked to him for leadership. However, following the incident two weeks earlier, David was beginning to question the foundations of the new order that he was helping to build. It had been two weeks since he and Hardy had discovered Commander Shepard's unconscious body in the strange cocoon. Every night that he went to sleep in his dingy prefab, he dreamed of the moment the structure around her had collapsed and she'd fallen into his arms. The pain that had been transparent in her pale blue eyes was seared into his mind. Every morning he woke with the strange name on his lips – _Liara T'Soni_. He'd tried to do some digging on the extranet, but he knew his searches would be monitored and the records surrounding Shepard were little more than propaganda at best – most extolling her as a paragon of humanity. He could find no reference to the name that had been on her lips when she woke.

For two weeks David had waited for the news that Shepard had been found alive. Every day he searched the feeds to find them full of nothing except the latest horror stories from around the Galaxy. Tuchanka was apparently gripped in a civil war that was so devastating that it meant the genophage had been cured for nothing. The Krogan were killing themselves faster than they could breed. Most greeted this news with nothing short of unbridled enthusiasm. No one wanted the Krogan in any position of galactic power. There were several stories of alien races attacking human colonies – all of which appeared to have been repelled either by the heroic colonists themselves or the Alliance.

David wasn't sure how much faith he placed in those reports. They seemed like stories fabricated to drive more recruits to join the Alliance. He'd already lost several of his best workers to the recruiters. It galled him to hear the continued focus on the war and the military when it was peace that people needed to hear about. Still the bombastic propaganda continued, and there was absolutely no word about Commander Shepard. A part of him reluctantly acknowledged that she could have died. However, he'd heard the way in which she forced the tortured syllables from her lips – _Liara T'Soni_. He knew that no one with that sort of love to live for would give up so easily.

He'd bet his own life that Commander Shepard was still alive. What he could not understand was why the Alliance would want to hide that fact. The Shepard was a hero, an icon – she could bring hope to millions. It made no sense whatsoever. As David trudged back toward the tunnel entrance, he could not help but think of the young woman he'd held in his arms for only a few minutes. Regardless of how badly the galaxy needed her, he wanted her to live for the simple fact that she deserved it.

"Hey Dave!" Hardy's raucous yell disturbed his quiet contemplation. "Are ya trying to slack off or what?"

"I'm still your boss, you insolent sod," David replied as he placed his hardhat on his head. "Surely you could’ve started without me?"

Hardy scowled. It made his rugged face look slightly impish. "Neither meself nor any of this sorry lot went to university. There's real engineering stuff to be done. That's your job, mate."

David grinned as he slapped Hardy across the back. "Just shut up and lead the way."

As David slipped once more into the cool darkness below ground he breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes he had the stupid idea that this was where he belonged. Amanda had always teased him that he was some sort of troglodyte, more at home in his caves as opposed to up on the surface with everyone else. Still, it was handy in his line of work. He hated to think how difficult his job would have been if the thought of having all that earth above his head made him uneasy.

"How bout you finally come out for a round with us tonight?" Hardy suggested. "Some of the swill that they're serving ain't half bad and there are actual birds around here, Dave. Some of 'em ain't half bad either!"

"Look...mate, I just don't feel like I'm ready-"

"Hey, I gotcha, you're not ready to let the missus go," Hardy interrupted. "No birds, fine...but a pint at least?"

David replied with a slightly shrug which was more than enough of a positive answer for Hardy. He let out a whoop of triumph which sounded overly loud in the close confines of the tunnel. The pair passed a couple of other members of the crew whom he greeted before moving on. He knew all of them well enough to swap a few jokes save for a new guy who'd joined only a few days ago. Eventually they came to the face of the tunnel. The tunnel boring machine had broken through into a pocket several hours earlier. He'd spent much of that time trying to devise a suitable means to bridge the gap with their limited resources.

"How deep do you reckon that there hole is?" Hardy cautiously approached the edge and peered down.

Having never been overly fond of heights himself, David did not approach the edge. "Hard to say, why don't you jump off and find out?" For some reason he had an odd feeling tingling at the base of his skull. David tried to shrug it off. "We're just lucky we didn't lose the TBM." The machine would be next to impossible to replace.

"Sod off," Hardy replied with a grin.

David suddenly realised that his hands were empty. "Shit, forgot the damn datapad with all the bloody calculations on it."

"You'd forget your balls too if they weren't attached," Hardy joked with an annoyed snort. "Hurry up then, mate. I ain't got all day. Some of us actually do want to talk to a lady tonight." He gave one of his armpits a quick sniff and made a face. "And if I'm gonna get anywhere, I need a damn shower."

"You need more than that," David remarked over his shoulder.

Not wanting to hold up the schedule any longer than necessary, David broke into a jog as he made his way out of the tunnel. He passed by the crew he'd joked with earlier.

"Hey boss, you forget something?"

David paused. It was the new guy – James or Jason, he couldn't remember his name. "Yeah, I'm a dumb arse."

"I'll get it for ya, whatcha lost?" he jogged up alongside David with an eager grin on his face. "You can get back to the face."

He shook his head as he continued. "It's fine. I've got it, lad." _Jake, that's his name._ _Huh, old man's not so old after all!_

"Seriously, boss, I can get it."

"I got it, Jake," David assured him with a friendly pat on his shoulder.

He only managed a few more steps before a dull boom emanated from the tunnel behind him. As he whipped himself around, a wall of loose earth and air suddenly came rushing toward him. It slammed into both him and the young man at his side. They were picked up and thrown a good half a dozen metres before colliding with the soft mud. As David picked himself up, he realised that the overhead lights had been knocked out. The sole source of light was coming from his helmet. The weak beam barely penetrated the gloom up ahead. Beside him, Jake was lying half-dazed with a nasty cut on his forehead but otherwise unharmed. David heard more coughs coming from behind him.

"Shit," he whispered as he struggled to his feet and drunkenly plodded forward. "Hardy!"

David made it only as far as the TBM. The massive boring machine was almost completely buried in packed earth and rubble. He slammed his fist against the rear of the machine, hard enough to cause blood to flow from one of his knuckles. There was no way his buddy was walking away from the accident.

 _Yeah...an accident,_ David thought with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 


	7. A Bastard Behind the Eyes

**Location Withheld**

Consciousness arrived with a complimentary headache – no doubt courtesy of whatever shit Stone had pumped into her veins to bring her under control. Much to her disgust Shepard also discovered that she was again strapped down to her bed like an unstable, violent criminal. Her clenched fists rattled uselessly in their restraints as she remembered the desperate rage that had provoked her current treatment.

The awful fear she had felt started to slither back into her gut. This time she fought to keep it buried. She already knew that Liara was in danger and earning herself a one-way ticket to a permanent vegetative state was not the key to helping her.

Her movement eventually drew the attention of Dr Stone. Shepard merely scowled unhelpfully when she saw the blonde doctor. She was finding it increasingly difficult to trust someone who was constantly sticking her with needles.

"Evan, you've got to stop behaving like this!" she hissed as she began perfunctorily checking Shepard's vitals and reactions.

"Like what?" Shepard snapped as she tried to wrench her head away from Stone's grip. She failed and was forced to remain still as a bright light shone into each eye. "You treat me like a caged animal so I'm going to behave like one."

"Heller is furious. As soon as you pulled that little stunt last night he started talking about amputating your arm!" Stone tucked her penlight back into her pocket and began taking readings on her omni-tool. "He wants to study the tech embedded in your body, and it would undoubtedly be easier for him if it wasn't attached to you." The doctor glanced over her shoulder toward the two armed soldiers standing guard at the door. _"I can't help you like this," she mouthed._

Shepard kept her mouth shut. Stone was undeniably crap at subterfuge and she did not want to attract additional attention. As the doctor moved the scan down her body, she closed her eyes and ignored her altogether. A vexed sigh escaped her lips. She had felt nothing more of Liara while she slept, nor now as she lay, struggling with the impossibility of trying to reach to her over a link she didn't fully understand.

Stone interrupted her thoughts by working at the restraints on her arms. "I can let you off the bed, but I'm afraid you'll have to wear restraints."

As soon as one arm was free, both soldiers moved toward her. One kept his distance and trained his weapon on her. Shepard noted it was a Carnifex and not merely a stun gun. The other held a pair of hand cuffs that would be linked to a secure band around her waist. Wordlessly, Shepard held out both her wrists toward the Private. As they clicked firmly into place over her pale skin, she met Stone's gaze and gave the woman the barest nod.

She would cooperate. For now.

* * *

 

**Melbourne, Australia**

With most of the personnel on shore leave preferring the boozier, more energetic establishments near the space port, Sam Traynor was grateful to find herself wearing civvies in an almost empty bar on the Southbank. The toll of war was evident in the battered, almost haphazard décor and limited menu, but Sam didn't care. As soon as she was perched in a musty armchair with a very expensive glass of red wine, she felt more relaxed that she had in months. Her chair was perched in front of folding doors that were peeled back to reveal a view of the river. If Sam didn't look to the left at the blackened ruins of half a dozen skyscrapers, then she could pretend that the war had never happened. The daydream could continue with the thought that somewhere out in the galaxy, her parents were still living their lives. Then a message would eventually come from her Mum, reminding her that she had forgotten to call yet again.

Although the entire picture created nothing more than an artificial diversion at best, Sam was determined to find some sort of acceptance within herself. She would never admit it to Joker, but getting rottenly drunk with him had been a turning point of sorts. Sam had discovered that she could laugh again, even if that laughter had ended with a spectacular bout of vomiting into a waste disposal chute. She had always been a crap drunk. She took a delicate sip of her wine, determined that it would be her only drink, before returning her attention to the text on the data pad in her hand.

Despite the novel being one of her favourites, Sam was having difficulty losing herself amidst the words. She had read and re-read the same sentence several times already. Even when she fixed the page with a determined stare, she found the words reorganising themselves into a nonsensical jumble. Eventually she gave up altogether and tossed the pad down onto the table. She took up a determined grip on her wine instead. Sam took small sips while she let the view provide her with a sense of peace.

The bar was starting to come alive a little by the time Sam moved onto her third glass of wine. She soon discovered that the most interesting way in which to pass the time was too study her fellow patrons in as discreet a manner as possible. She had already concluded that most were in the service. Some blatantly advertised this by the fact that they were wearing a uniform. A swarthy, handsome lieutenant was sitting almost directly opposite her. Also alone, he was reading from an actual hardcopy book as opposed to a datapad.

With others, their military profession was obvious simply through the way they carried themselves. Sam had to crane her neck slightly to study a young woman talking to the bartender. Clad simply in a pair of jeans and shirt, Sam thought that perhaps she was a soldier judging by the taut muscles of her forearms. Her dark hair sat atop her head in a pile of tight curls that was obviously deliberately kept short to avoid a total loss of control. When the woman suddenly turned, and noticed Sam staring, the corners of her lips curled upwards into a rather dazzling smile. Mortified at being caught staring, Sam jerked her head away so quickly she felt as though she may have given herself whiplash. As she drained half her glass, she soon discovered that she had a very clear view of the woman. As Sam had expected, she had resumed talking to the guy behind the bar, offering only a view of her rather shapely neck. Somewhat disappointed, Sam was contemplating leaving as soon as she finished her wine when she caught a flash of reflected movement. Both the dark-haired woman and the bartender were unashamedly staring at her and discussing something with grins on their faces. Suddenly acutely aware of the scrutiny, Sam concentrated on the dregs of her wine. The remainder slipped all too easily down her throat and she was left toying with an empty glass for a few moments. Buoyed by the three glasses she'd polished off, Sam shifted in her seat so she could watch the woman at the bar out of the corner of her eye. A light laugh drifted over to her ears, causing a nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach. Sam was still unsure whether they were laughing at her when she saw the woman rise slowly to her feet and smooth her hands on the thighs of her jeans. The bartender meanwhile had poured two glasses of wine which the woman claimed before she started to move toward Sam.

_Holy crap,_ Sam thought as she watched the woman's progress out of the corner of her eye. _She is coming this way._ Given that there were so few people in the bar, there was absolutely no doubt that Sam was the focus of her attention. _Shit, she's going to want me to say something...with actual words._

As Sam was nervously drumming her fingers against the arm of her chair, a shadow fell over her. She drew in a deep breath and looked up with a nervous smile on her face. It faltered suddenly when she saw it wasn't the dark-haired woman. It was the lieutenant she'd noticed earlier, his white teeth bared in a broad smile.

"I didn't expect to find someone as gorgeous as you in a place like this," he announced straight off the bat.

"Um..." Sam was left fumbling for words. Without trying to appear overly obvious she cast a glance back over her shoulder to see the woman making a hasty retreat back to the bar.

"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked, pointing toward the empty chair next to hers.

_Yes you do mind. You bloody well mind!_ "N-no...not at all," Sam said in a voice that sounded defeated to her own ears. He was already lowering himself into the chair before her words were out. She fervently wished that she could find the nous to tell him exactly what she thought of his pick-up line and just where he could go and sit (and it certainly would not be next to her). However, all Sam could do was smile nervously and feel resentful at the fact that the lieutenant had not even thought to bring a glass of wine with him.

"Ah, you're a Brit." He seemed quite pleased with himself for making that observation.

"Not quite," Sam admitted. She originally intended to leave her explanation at that, but he merely watched her expectantly and she continued, "My parents were both born in London but I grew up in a colony. I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to return for school and I…um…I studied at Oxford."

He raised his eyebrows. "Impressive! I must admit that my forebears were French, but I hope you will not hold that against me."

Sam was unimpressed. "Why would I?" Without trying to appear overly rude, she was trying to study the dark-haired woman at the bar. She was in the midst of draining her glass of wine while the bartender looked on sympathetically. _Was she seriously into me?_ Sam mused in disbelief, not quite daring to hope that had been the case. The lieutenant was saying something which she completely missed. "Um, I'm sorry. What did you say?"

He laughed lightly. It wasn't an unpleasant sound. Sam had to admit that, even with her limited experience and poor judgement, the man was exceptionally handsome. Admittedly there were only a handful of women in the bar, but Sam was still struggling to understand why he had walked over to her...especially when she had only cursorily glanced in his direction.

"I was admitting that I've started off rather poorly," he said honestly. "You can tell me, I'm crap at this whole conversation thing."

Sam shook her head. "I'm not really the best judge of all that. I guarantee that I am even more crap."

"Well, why don't you tell me your name before we start arguing as to who is the crappiest?" he suggested.

"Crappiest?" Sam asked. "Is that even a word? Crappier?"

"It's undoubtedly crappiest, and the honour definitely has to go to me. I'm Leon Grenier." He glanced down a little shamefully at his uniform. "I'm afraid I've given away my occupation already. And before you think I'm some military type who likes to wear his uniform to impress the ladies, I swear I'm not. I haven't a stitch of clothing that isn't naval issue. My luggage went missing between here and my last post."

Sam nodded politely even as she risked another glance towards the bar, finding her crush already animatedly talking to another woman at the bar. A sigh escaped her lips. Opportunity lost.

"Are you alright?" Grenier asked. “You seem a little distracted?”

"Huh?" Sam jerked her head back to face him. "Ah, yeah, I am. I'm really sorry, Lieutenant Grenier. I'm not usually so wool-headed. And my manners are shite...I'm Samantha Traynor, but please call me Sam."

"And you need to call me Leon," he offered. “Hey, the least I can do is make up for my crappy pick-up line by buying you a drink. Stay right there, Sam."

_Oh god_ , Sam groaned inwardly as Grenier headed to the bar. She had managed to attract the attention of the best-looking guy in the bar, and she had absolutely no interest whatsoever in him. As Sam sat tapping her fingers on the side of her chair, she happened to look up just as the woman from the bar made her way out the door. Her arm was wrapped around a rather cute but scantily clad young blonde. As she passed, she threw Sam a quick look that said very plainly, _this could have been you_. Sam scowled at her back. She promptly decided that she was glad the woman had not made it all the way to her chair.

By the time Grenier had returned with an entire bottle of wine and two fresh glasses, Sam had already forgotten about the lost opportunity. Despite the three glasses of wine she had already consumed, she did not feel drunk – merely slightly giddy.

"It took me a while to be sure, but I think you're in the service as well," Grenier suddenly announced. He watched Sam with sparkling eyes as he took a sip of his wine.

"How did you know?" Sam glanced down at her rather drab civilian clothes – khaki coloured slacks and a printed shirt that did absolutely nothing for her complexion. She'd borrowed it off Private Westmoreland earlier that day.

Grenier shrugged. "I must admit I was sneaking little glances at you all afternoon," he replied quietly. "Sometimes there was this haunted look in your eyes. I think you've been at the coal face…you know what it was like out there."

"I'm just a Comms Specialist who spent her entire war on a ship," Sam explained simply. She deliberately omitted the part where she had served on the most famous ship in the galaxy. "Compared to most of the civilians out there, I think I had it soft – a warm bed, enough food…and I'm still alive."

"I know what you mean," Grenier agreed. "Sometimes it's hard to realise just how lucky we are." He too slipped into a thousand-yard stare for a few moments and Sam wondered where he'd spent the war. It was wiped all too quickly by another disarming grin. "I'm sorry, we're supposed to be forgetting about war, drowning our sorrows and all that. Let's toast to fallen comrades and then speak of something far less depressing."

Sam raised her glass. _Especially EDI, James…and Shepard_. The wine slipped down her throat and by the time she saw the bottom of the glass, she managed to fix a smile on her face. When Grenier shifted the topic to their mutual passion for reading, she found herself finally able to put thoughts of the war behind her.

Night had fallen by the time the wine was all gone. With taxis difficult to come by in post-war Melbourne, Grenier's offer to walk her back to her barracks was gratefully accepted. Sam didn't have any great desire to hurry back to the pre-fab she shared with three other enlisted women from the _Normandy_ , but exhaustion and the great deal of wine she'd had was all starting to catch up with her. She enjoyed the peaceful walk back toward the space port, but she was grateful to see the front gates of the barracks come into view. Her head felt exceptionally fluffy. _I think you've had one too many, Sam,_ she told herself. _Or five._

Sam had to stifle a yawn as she turned to say goodnight to her companion for the evening. In all truth, she had enjoyed just sitting and talking with the Lieutenant. Removing any romantic attraction had made things a hell of a lot easier.

"Well, this is me," she announced. "I had fun." It was the most words she could string together in her state.

“Can I get your number?” Grenier’s words emerged as a string rather than a sentence.

"What?" Sam asked, trying to figure out what she had just heard.

Leon stepped forward with an earnest expression on his face. “Your number? Can I get it? I’d like to see you again.”

“Oh god,” Sam whispered, she shook her head furiously. “No!”

“Oh…” Leon stepped back, looking somewhat shocked. “Sam…if I offended you-”

Sam shook her head again. “No, oh god…” _I’m way too drunk to deal with this right now._ “Um…I'm sorry...if I gave you the wrong impression. Not because you're not a nice man...but because you're...well, you're a man and I’m gay, really, really gay -"

"Samantha-" Leon interrupted her just as she was about to enter full on babble mode. “I made a stupid assumption and now I’ve embarrassed both of us. I guess this is the point where I say thank you for a lovely evening and make a graceful exit.”

“Thank you, Leon...honestly. I did have a rather fun evening with you."

"Despite me being a man?” He grinned sheepishly.

Sam responded in kind. “Yes, despite that.”

Leon’s exit was less graceful, more of a drunken stumble. Much the same as Sam when she turned and blinked several times, trying to remember which direction her bunk was in.

She had to admit to herself a minute or so later that she had absolutely no idea.

* * *

 

It wasn’t hard for Ashley to list her favourite things to wake up to. Her Dad's famous buttermilk pancakes with lashings of bacon, banana and maple syrup had always been a rare treat during the times that he was on leave. Even as she grew older, she could still remember the way the smell wafted up the stairs to the bedroom she shared with Abby. When she was a girl she had often taken it for granted that her Dad would spend most of his precious shore leave doting on his daughters. All too often she had pounced on him at some ungodly hour of the morning, begging him to take her walking or hunting in Sirona’s vast, largely untamed wilderness. Her memories of the two of them setting out into the pre-dawn darkness with a couple of sandwiches and his antique hunting rifle were among her favourites. They'd often come home empty handed, but it was always the time spent together that was most precious.

There was no tantalising smell of pancakes hanging in the air as she woke – although the lingering smell of her lover's body was every bit as memorable. Ashley's eyelids fluttered open and she found another of her favourite waking moments – the sight of Miranda Lawson standing naked in front of her. Although the curtains were still drawn, Miranda's naked body appeared as though it was glowing in the sunlight that shone through the gaps. Ashley's gaze lingered over everything. Even though she had spent much of the past few days exploring every inch of Miranda’s skin intimately, she still could not quite get enough.

Miranda regarded her with a bemused smile on her face. “What?”

“You,” Ashley replied simply. “You’re gorgeous.”

Despite being fully aware that it was the truth, Miranda responded with a self-deprecating smile. Ash was content holding onto the sight of Miranda standing in front of her, but the protests of her bladder couldn’t be ignored. Ungraciously flopping out of bed, Ash stumbled past Miranda, hands lingering for a moment, in the direction of the bathroom. Her head swam uncomfortably, a reminder that they had polished off an entire bottle of scotch last night.

“Ouch,” she muttered, clutching at her temples.

“Hangover?” Miranda asked in a knowing voice.

“Absolutely not.” Ash feigned a smile and straightened. She definitely had a hangover. And it was a right bastard behind the eyes.

As she gratefully emptied her bladder, Ash reflected on the injustice of finding someone that had a higher alcohol tolerance than she did.

She emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, freshly scrubbed teeth making her feel slightly more alive, to find Miranda effortlessly doing push-ups in the narrow floor space. Physical exertion of that magnitude was far beyond Ash's grasp as she lowered herself back onto the bed. She settled for toying with Miranda by pressing down on her back each time she tried to push herself up. This did not last long before she became distracted by the rippling muscles playing across her lover's back and the arresting sight of her biceps. With a frown, Ashley propped herself up onto her elbows and studied her own biceps. She flexed before letting out an irritated huff.

"How the hell did your biceps become bigger than mine?" she asked almost sullenly.

With a bemused expression on her face, Miranda stopped and knelt in front of Ashley. "I doubt that very much. Why don't you drop and give me twenty? I'll happily confirm that your biceps are indeed larger."

Ashley scowled. "What happened to no physical exertion other than sex?"

"Oh, Ash, I know exactly why I love you so much," Miranda replied with a grin. She reached out and stroked Ash’s bicep with gentle fingers. "Please don't change. Your biceps are perfect and they're definitely still bigger than mine."

As Miranda rose to her feet, Ashley's sullenness was driven away as she finally had another opportunity to ogle. The raven-haired woman deliberately slowed her movements, even going as far to run one hand over the curve of her breast for Ashley's benefit. While Ashley lay salivating on the bed, she was struck by the tenderness evident in Miranda's words and movements. As she watched Miranda cross the room, she found herself again dwelling on her recollections of her childhood.

"What time do we need to be ready to catch the transport to Vancouver?" Miranda asked as she paused outside the bathroom. When Ashley didn't reply immediately, she prodded, "Ash?"

"Huh?" Ashley rolled over to face her with a clueless expression on her face that clearly indicated she had not been paying attention.

"Vancouver? Your sisters?" Miranda repeated. "What time do we need to leave?"

"Oh…um, 0900," Ashley replied as she checked the time. They still had over an hour. Although she was looking forward to seeing Abby and Lynn, she was disappointed that Sarah had not been able to secure any leave to meet up with them. A part of her also regretted the fact that she would have to share her precious time with Miranda with others, even her little sisters. Did she really want to share Miranda with anyone…ever? "Hey…M?" she asked quietly. Before continuing, she drew in a deep breath. "How do you feel about having kids?"

As Ashley searched her lover's face, a shadow fell for a brief moment before it was brushed aside. "I don't think that now is an appropriate time to be talking about such things."

Ashley frowned. The tenderness that had been evident in Miranda's voice a minute earlier was gone, replaced by the emotionless ice-queen persona she was so adept at wearing. The transformation unnerved Ash because she saw this side of Miranda so rarely.

"I didn't mean that we have to consider it immediately," Ash replied quickly. "I mean, I know it's not the best time to be thinking about bringing a child into this hell, but eventually, when everything stabilises it might be nice to have a little person around with your eyes-"

"And you and I are still on opposite sides of the galaxy," Miranda interrupted. "Are we each going to have the kid for a week at a time? You could set up a playpen on the _Normandy's_ CIC and I can carry it in a goddamn harness on my hardsuit. Is that what you want?"

Ashley had moved into a sitting position as Miranda spoke, her voice rising with each successive word. She eventually shook her head. "No, that's not…" her voice trailed off as she regretted ever remembering the smell of buttermilk pancakes. "Miri…I'm sorry."

A ragged sigh escaped Miranda's lips as she leaned back against the bathroom doorway. "I can't have kids, Ash. I don't know whether it is something that my fa…that Henry Lawson intended, or another side-effect of my genetic makeup…but I'm infertile. Guess I'm not completely perfect after all."

Without waiting for an invitation or an opening, Ashley rose sinuously to her feet and padded across the short distance that separated them. Although Miranda stubbornly resisted her initially, she soon allowed Ashley to fold her into a fierce embrace.

"You are undeniably perfect," Ashley whispered, pressing her face into the thick mass of black hair and inhaling. When she drew back, she simply brushed the single tear away from beneath Miranda's eye without commenting on it. "Shower?"

Miranda arched an eyebrow. "As long as we don't come out dirtier than when we went in."

With their limited supply of lukewarm water having curtailed any time-wasting activities, Ashley was dressed packed and ready to leave in less than ten minutes. She found herself lying on the bed with a bemused expression on her face as she watched Miranda pacing back and forth clad in just her underwear. Her clothing was precisely folded into various piles on the bed.

"Abby and Lynn are hardly going to care what you wear," Ashley commented as she absently prodded a pile of t-shirts with her toe.

With an annoyed expression, Miranda straightened the pile. "I don't care whether they care or not - I care! And just because you bundled up all your gear and shoved it in your damn bag in five seconds doesn't mean you can sit there and ruin my system."

"That's a system?" Ashley asked, staring at the piles of clothes. "Looks more like-" She cut herself off abruptly when she found herself on the receiving end of an icy stare.

Although watching Miranda whilst she was half-naked was enjoyable enough, Ashley soon realised that the other woman did not cope well under scrutiny. To occupy herself, she turned on the ancient wall console mounted adjacent to the bed. _Oh god_ , she thought with an inward groan as the first thing she saw was her own 'enhanced' image being used as part of a recruiting campaign. She was about to turned the screen off when an image of Admiral Hackett suddenly appeared on a news bulletin. Ashley quickly unmuted the sound.

_{It is with great regret that we say the Alliance has lost a true hero today. In the early hours of the morning, Admiral Steven Hackett passed away suddenly.}_ Miranda stopped pacing and turned her attention to the screen with a small gasp. The reporter continued. _{It is believed that he had been struggling with a heart condition for some time-}_

"Bullshit!" Ashley snorted. "I spoke to Hackett last week. He sounded perfectly fine."

"Perhaps he was masking it?" Miranda suggested uncertainly.

_{Already a well-respected and highly-decorated veteran of the First Contact War, Admiral Hackett ably led the Systems Alliance Navy throughout the Reaper War and notably during the Battle for Earth-}_

"He was only in his fifties." Ashley shook her head in disbelief. "Shit, after what happened to Anderson…to lose Hackett as well."

The image of Hackett was replaced by pre-recorded interview footage of a striking woman with short hair whom Ashley recognised before her name even emerged on screen – _Cpt. Christiane Alves,_ _Alliance spokesperson._

_{The loss of Admiral Hackett, while tragic, serves to remind us of the depth of leadership ability within the Alliance,}_ Alves explained in an emotive voice. _{I can confirm that Admiral Peter Mikhailovich will be assuming the command of the Fifth Fleet in its mission to provide support and security for humanity's colonies.}_

"Do you recognise her?" Miranda suddenly asked.

"Huh?" _Shit, was I staring?_ Ashley looked up at Miranda. However, her lover was entirely focused on the screen and the grainy image of Captain Alves. She felt an iron-clad guilt take root in her stomach. _How the hell does she know?_ "Okay, I stared at her butt once!" Ashley blurted out quickly. "I was trying to test how gay I am."

Miranda shifted her attention to a guilty looking Ashley and frowned. "When did you stare at her butt?"

"She's Kessler's aide. I gave them a tour of the _Normandy_ two days ago. And it wasn't a stare so much as a glance." _It was a stare_. "That guy was an ass…Mikhailovich is an ass. Shit, we're surrounded by assholes."

"That woman was in Macapá last week at a meeting with one of my OCS superiors." Miranda ignored Ashley's excuse as she continued, "She had no reason for being there other than to quiz me on my history with Cerberus. I can't believe I didn't know who she was immediately. Seriously, Ash, are you trying to tell me you didn't recognise the woman? What the hell were you doing in 2178?"

"2178?" Ashley frowned. "Damned if I can remember – probably having my ass kicked by my NCO on some godforsaken backwater. What happened in 2178?"

"Torfan happened," Miranda said in a quiet voice. "Alves was also the sole survivor of the Mindoir massacre and one of the candidates put forward to be the first human Spectre. Her candidacy was later dismissed despite some corners putting forward a strong case. You were staring at the Butcher of Torfan, Ash."

* * *

 

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

Liara had to admit that the smell emanating from the tiny kitchen was mouth-watering. She had spent so many months subsisting on cold food that the thought of eating something hot caused her to feel a small amount of genuine excitement. A few minutes later, when Mack set the plate in front of her, it was a struggle to feign indifference as she picked up her fork. Liara had never made a secret of her dislike for human food, but the first taste of Mack's cooking had her very quickly scooping up another.

"You don't have to stand on ceremony, kid." Mack said as he took a seat nearby with his own plate.

As her companion began eating at a prodigious rate, Liara lost some of her restraint. She ate quickly, but with small portions which she chewed thoroughly lest she upset her tender stomach. Both ate in silence that was punctuated only with the sound of Mack's open-mouthed chewing and the scraping of forks against their plates.

With a properly full stomach for the first time in months, Liara settled back against the sofa with a small sigh. Although she was still weak after being plucked out of the lake the day before, she was rapidly regaining strength thanks to his attentive care. She had managed almost a full eight hours sleep without the aid of medication. While her dreams had still been troubled, she had mercifully not woken screaming. She folded her legs beneath her and tucked a blanket tightly around her body to ward off any chill while Mack wordlessly gathered up their empty plates.

The human had effortlessly integrated himself into her life in a short space of time. Pericles Macklin was nothing like she had come to expect from a mercenary. Aside from the odd phrase and his thick accent, he was well-spoken and knowledgeable. He moved with a lazy sort of grace to his movements that all the best soldiers possessed. Much as Shepard had.

Mack returned with two steaming mugs of Earl Grey tea, one of which Liara accepted gratefully. She felt almost guilty for having done very little other than sleep and devour every morsel of food that Mack set in front of her. When the New Zealander returned to his seat on the sofa, she could tell from the pensive experience on his face that he wanted to say something.

"You've got a lot of tech in here, kid," he said as he nodded toward her inactive terminals.

Liara truthfully had not thought about the Broker's network since she pulled the plug. Even when she turned and looked in their direction, she could not bring herself to summon any enthusiasm for the role she had given up. Although the centuries of her life lay before her, empty and waiting to be filled with some sort of life, she struggled to picture what that life would look like without Shepard.

"Surely you know I am almost twice your age?" Liara replied, deflecting Mack away from his statement.

He shrugged. "Yeah, doesn't change the fact that you're still a kid. You're what, 110 at most?"

"109," Liara replied in a taut voice.

"My point exactly - kid." He took a sip of his tea. Apparently, he drank as enthusiastically as he ate. Liara almost shuddered at the loud slurp. "So why the hell are you hiding away alone at the end of the world?"

Liara lowered her gaze. "Hiding from reminders of a life I once lived…a love I lost."

"Motherfucking _love_ ," Mack snorted. "Thought so. Aria wouldn't tell me when I asked her but I knew it had something to do with love – what else can turn a perfectly rational individual into a pathetic shadow of their former self? I say love can go fuck itself in the ass-" He cut himself off mid-tirade and looked slightly apologetic. "Pardon my language."

She almost smiled in response. "No, it is quite alright. My bondmate was a marine. Trust me when I say I can handle colourful human expletives."

Mack laughed in understanding. "So your marine, where were they stationed?"

"On a ship," Liara replied simply. In all truth she had not thought of the _Normandy_ , her home, since her breakdown. She found herself wondering whether Ashley had pursued the leads she forwarded regarding the attack. Wherever the ship was, Liara fervently hoped that she and her crew were safe. "She was the commanding officer of a frigate."

"What was she like?" Mack prodded gently.

"In many ways, she was a quintessential soldier – selfless, brave, guarded…but…" Liara bundled up her blanket in her fists. She found answering Mack's simple question more difficult than she would have thought. "Her driving was abysmal, and her dancing…" Liara did not know whether to laugh or cry. Although she dredged up memories of Shepard trying to blend in on the dance floor at Flux, she also remembered their last dance on the Citadel the night they had bonded. The more she spoke, the more cathartic her words seemed. "She was flawed…vulnerable. One moment she would save my life and the next I would want desperately to shield her from her fears. But no one could accuse her of being weak. At the end, she gave her life to save mine…yours and every other life in the Galaxy." Liara looked up and met Mack's confused gaze. For the first time in months, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips even as her eyes started to burn. "My bondmate was Commander Shepard."

Mack let out a long breath. "Shit. I’m sorry.”

Liara did not reply immediately. She knew that if she opened her mouth she would descend into tears. If she kept everything tightly sealed, then she could just about hold herself together long enough to avoid tears. Despite her anguish, she felt better for being able to talk to someone. After spending months keeping her emotions buried beneath a strict regime, the conversation with Mack felt healthy.

"Thank you for the food," Liara offered eventually. "It was delicious."

"It was nothing special," he replied even as he grinned happily.

"And for the use of your home. It truly is a spectacular place."

"Well, I always used to say there's no such thing as an old merc, but it turns out that I was wrong. You spend as long as I did fighting other people's battles then you can rack up a decent amount of credits. Choice was to piss it all away or buy a place like this," Mack explained as he glanced around proudly. His jovial expression slipped slightly when he turned back to face Liara. "I'd let you stay here forever, but I'm not sure how much longer you'll be able to remain on Earth."

Liara frowned. "Why?"

"Let's just say I've been hearing a few things through various contacts. There are several indications that Earth's government will soon be closing its borders to all aliens-" he continued speaking through Liara's shocked gasp "-even one so lovely as yourself, Dr T'Soni."

 


	8. The Vernacular of Family

**Vancouver, Earth**

The landscape that stretched out below the transport was a miserable carpet of blackened buildings and scorched earth. The ruins were starkly contrasted against the vibrant, white-capped blue of the bay, almost as though nature was desperately trying to compensate for the blasted post-war reality. As she stared sadly out of the window, Ashley Williams remembered the last time she had flown into Vancouver almost nine months earlier. Were it not for the city's distinctive topography, she would have said it was a different city altogether. Very few large buildings were still intact, most were blasted out shells or skeletal remains. It appeared that most of the rebuilding efforts were concentrated around the Defence Headquarter buildings and the space port.

As the transport came in over the HQ on a low trajectory, she couldn't help but recall the reunion with Shepard that had taken place on the day of her arrival. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had stood at the side of the pool, watching her old CO swim lengths. Ashley couldn't remember exactly how long she'd just watched Shepard's repetitive movements whilst trying to formulate an apology in her head.

_"Look, Skipper…on Horizon…I was angry when I saw you with Cerberus. I thought you'd turned your back on the Alliance. I may have said a few things-"_

_"Forget it-"_

_"Let me finish. I hate Cerberus…and I hated you for working with them, but I hate myself more for abandoning you when you needed me. I should have been with you when you went through the Omega-4 relay. God knows you can't shoot worth a damn."_

The apology had been sincere, but her irrational anger had come flooding back all too quickly following the revelation that Cerberus were behind the attack on the Mars outpost. _Dad always did say I was quick to resort to anger,_ she chided herself. _Now I’m the one involved with an ex-Cerberus operative._

Unlike when the _Normandy_ had passed through the Omega-4 relay, Ash had been at Shepard's side throughout the Battle for Earth and all the way to base of the Crucible itself. She’d pushed herself beyond the limits of her abilities to keep the Commander safe, but her efforts had not been enough. She had managed to keep Liara safe, but not Shepard herself. As the transport flew past the scaffolding and the tiny figures at work, she knew that their efforts were all part of Shepard's legacy. It was solely because of the Commander that they had the chance to rebuild at all.

Ash felt a light touch graze the back of her hand. It seemed ridiculous that the simple gesture represented the limit of intimacy she could share with her lover in public. When she moved her attention from the view to the woman sitting next to her, she barely had the willpower to resist leaning in for a chaste kiss. Miranda's gaze conveyed similar sentiments. Her blue eyes sparkled with implicitly wicked intent, but she blatantly solved her own urges by folding her arms across her chest.

"Nervous?" Ash asked quietly.

"Terrified," Miranda replied honestly.

"You know they don't bite."

"I'm not worried about physical violence, I can handle myself in that respect," Miranda mused. "However if I resort to trussing your sisters up with biotics, I don't think I'll win them over. What am I supposed to do…to say?"

Miranda's voice had taken on a pleading quality that both surprised and enthralled Ashley. It became even more difficult to resist the temptation to touch her. Ash was frustrated by the fact that she knew she could do a far better job of reassuring Miranda through her touch than she ever could with words. She already had to stop herself from responding with a pathetic shrug and an 'I don't know.'

"Just be yourself," she eventually offered.

Miranda responded with a cynical expression. "You know me better than anyone else, Williams. If I followed your advice, then my first meeting with your family would more than likely be my last. The whole point is not to be myself. I need to be someone tactful, chatty, and…nice."

Ashley discreetly shifted in her seat to move her body closer to Miranda's and her lips closer to her ear. "I love you the way you are, M," she whispered. "Relax, be yourself, and if you're pissing one of them off, they'll let you know about it – probably with their fists."

"Remind me never to ask your advice again," Miranda replied. 

* * *

 

Approximately an hour and a half later, Miranda still wasn't sure whether her approach to winning over the Williams sisters was working. She had settled for tactics that were halfway between Ashley's advice to be herself and her own - which mostly involved thinking through every word that left her lips and smiling at everything until her jaw ached. Although their youngest sister was absent, Abby and Lynn Williams created enough conversation of their own to make it seem as though there were half a dozen people crowded around the small table in the tiny two-bedroom apartment they shared. To make matters worse, Ashley had saved her last bottle of scotch for the occasion.

It was slightly disarming to be around two women who resembled her lover. While Abby more closely resembled Ashley with the same nose and long hair, but it was Lynn who shared Ashley’s mannerisms and sense of humour. Most of the table conversation was deliberately light as the sisters sought to reconnect. While they did not shy away from mentioning Abby's boyfriend, killed on the Citadel, and Sarah's marine husband lost on Demeter, the reminiscing remained humorous. There were a lot of childhood anecdotes shared, mostly involving Abby and Lynn trying their best to embarrass Ashley. Although Miranda had little experience with mothers, Abby was clearly a mothering sort of young woman. She took charge of their meal, bustling between the table and the kitchen.

"I always wondered whether one of us would turn out to be gay," Lynn mused as she took a sip of scotch. The slight grimace on her face indicated that she was only drinking it to humour her big sister.

"I'm not gay," Ashley replied testily. She was already onto her second measure of scotch.

"Well whatever you want to call it, you're sleeping with a woman!" Lynn said as she pointed toward Miranda who merely had a shocked expression on her face.

"I always thought it would be you, Lynn," Abby added from the kitchen.

"Really?"

"Yeah, middle child syndrome and all that," Abby laughed as she lifted the lasagne out of the oven. "You were always trying to be a little different."

"You're a middle child too," Lynn fired back.

Abby shook her head. "Ah, but I'm the elder middle child."

"That just makes you an even bigger screw-up. Whatever…so I may have been with a couple of women at college-" she paused to grin smugly at the surprised faces of her siblings "-it's no big deal. Ash however is well and truly in love, and that's something I never thought I would see – other than her abnormal love for the marine corps of course."

"Hey! I thought Dad raised us to respect our elders," Ashley cuffed Lynn lightly over the back of her head.

Lynn retorted with a quick punch to the upper arm. From there the banter suddenly became a restrained brawl with the two trading a flurry of light punches as a rather confused Miranda looked on. Having never had siblings nor childhood friends, the behaviour of the Williams sisters was almost alien to her. Abby practically had to fight her way to the table despite carrying a steaming hot tray of food.

Abby caught the expression on Miranda's face as she sat down. She leaned close to whisper conspiratorially, "Ignore those two, they always were the most immature out of the four of us." She interrupted her sisters by clearing he throat loudly. "If the two of you are done embarrassing yourselves, I'd like to say grace so we can eat before this delicious meat-substitute lasagne gets cold."

She paused while her sisters composed themselves. Ashley and Lynn, who had been scrapping only moments earlier, linked hands. Miranda frowned at first as Ashley beckoned her to hold out her hand but she eventually obliged, linking up with Abby on her other side. The younger sister gave her hand a warm squeeze but all she could worry about was her palm being sweaty.

Bowing her head, Abby began, "Dear Lord, thank you for bringing the four of us together. We ask you to watch over Sarah, our loved one who couldn't be here, and to our loved ones who are here in spirit – Dad, Tom, and Kostas – please watch over them. Thank-you for bringing Miranda to our table, regardless of whether she's turned our big sister gay or not, we're so very pleased to welcome her to the Williams family. Ash has always been a bit crap when it comes to finding love so I have to suspect that you gave her a little bit of help with that-"

"A _lot_ of help," Ashley murmured as she rubbed her thumb over the back of Miranda's hand.

"-and thank you for this food-"

"And the hands that prepared it!" Lynn interjected, knowing Abby would not thank herself.

"- after everything that has happened, we're so incredibly blessed to be sitting here eating it as a family. Amen."

A small chorus of 'amens' followed. Miranda offered up her own despite her doubts whether any deity, if they even existed in the first place, would be interested in knowing her. After the first and largest portion of lasagne had been heaped onto her plate, the sisters descended on their food with great gusto. Miranda needed only a small bite to confirm that it was leagues better than the food she had endured at OCS and she was soon eating with just as much enthusiasm.

As she scraped up the last morsels of food, she found herself making a strange realisation. Although she had no idea what being with a _normal_ family was supposed to feel like, she instinctively knew that she was a part of something. Her earlier insecurities were long since forgotten as she sat back in her chair and sipped her drink, content to observe the woman she loved interacting with her sisters.

* * *

 

With her body accustomed to waking at 0500, Miranda was surprised to wake alone the next morning. The space in the bed bedside her was cold, indicating that Ash had been up for some time. After pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved top, she quietly ventured beyond the bedroom. Having given up her room to accommodate the couple, Abby was on the couch. She had expected to possibly find Ash reminiscing with her sister, but she was nowhere in sight. Abby was awake, propped up at one end of the sofa reading a tattered paperback book.

"You military types sure love waking up early," she commented upon seeing Miranda.

"I didn't mean to wake you." Miranda winced.

Abby laughed and shook her head. "You're half an hour too late for that. Ash has never been light on her feet. She could wake the dead with her stomping around. If you're looking for her, she went up onto the roof to catch some air about half an hour ago."

Miranda nodded as she moved toward the door. "Thanks, Abby."

"Hey, Miranda?" Abby ventured quietly. Miranda looked up whilst tugging on her shoes and saw that younger Williams sister was perched on the edge of the sofa. "I hope I'm not overstepping the bounds of our relationship, but I just wanted to make sure you know just how welcome you are. Dad never told her himself, but he always worried about Ash ever finding someone to spend her life with – by the time she was a teenager she had three kids to help bring up. She never had time for dates and parties and all of that crap, and then she joined the Alliance straight out of school. The three of us used to tease her mercilessly about not knowing how to date – it was all kind of cruel really. I always thought she preferred being alone…but I know her, I see the way she looks at you and I can tell she's head over heels in love with you."

_Is this the sort of conversation that women are supposed to have together?_ Miranda asked herself as she finished putting on her shoes. She managed a small smile upon seeing the expectant expression on Abby's face, but she had no idea of the appropriate response. Although she had no doubt of her love for the marine, she was unaware of the social protocols for sharing such information. "Thank you," she eventually replied. Having never actually been on a date with Ashley, she had no idea regarding the marine's skills in that department. She was however very well versed with her skills in _other_ areas. "I'm not sure exactly what I did to deserve your sister, but…I love her…a great deal." _Too much?_ _Is this the part where she threatens to knife me in my sleep if I ever hurt Ash?_

However, the decidedly sappy expression on Abby's face told her that she had probably said the right thing. Eventually she grinned and relaxed back against the cushions. Both women were startled as one of the adjoining doors opened. With her cheek-length hair sticking up at wild angles, Lynn Williams dashed across the floor and leapt onto her sister's makeshift bed with an energetic flourish.

Lynn's grin was decidedly more impish as she stared toward Miranda. "All I can say is that Ash must be amazing in bed because you're definitely a ten and I've always thought of her as more of a seven."

Slightly alarmed by Lynn's first comment and having no idea what she was talking about with her second, Miranda could only respond to Lynn with a smile. "Um, so which way to the roof?"

"End of the corridor, take the stairs all the way to the top," Abby explained. "But grab that jacket next to you, it'll be freezing out."

"You're awful," Abby was saying to Lynn as Miranda hastily tugged on the jacket in an effort to escape the sisters. "Ash is definitely an eight."

Even as she escaped out of the door, Miranda heard Lynn making a case for her to be an eleven as opposed to a ten. Against her better judgement, she found herself smiling. _I'll have to ask Ash what they mean_.

As soon as Miranda opened the roof-top door, she was met with an icy blast of wind. The rooftop was largely shrouded in darkness, made even worse when she closed the door behind her. As she started out she drew the jacket firmly across her chest and folded her arms to retain some heat.

"Ash?" Miranda called out softly into the darkness.

"I'm here."

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she saw the slender shape of her lover leaning against the parapet on the far side of the roof. As she made her way across the wind nipped painfully at the exposed skin on her face and hands. She jammed her hands beneath her armpits to keep them warm. Already shivering by the time she reached Ashley's side, Miranda felt slightly resentful that she had made the decision to exchange a perfectly warm bed for a roof-top. They were supposed to be on leave after all.

"Seriously, Ash?" she announced in an acerbic tone. "You exchanged lying in bed next to a naked woman for this?"

"The view is nice," Ashley replied simply.

Although she did her best to humour Ash by following her line of sight, she could see very little in the pre-dawn darkness. She was far too cold and grumpy to pick out anything other than the devastation caused by the war. From their rooftop vantage point all she could make out were the twisted shadows of buildings. Although most of the streets were lit, the lights were deliberately weak to conserve power usage. With a military curfew still in effect seven months after the war, there were very few vehicles either in the sky or on the streets.

"I would have thought that your view in bed was nicer," Miranda replied in a thoroughly unimpressed voice. Although she was determined to appear as nonchalant as Ashley about the cold, she could feel her nose starting to run. She sniffed discreetly. "You can stand out here and freeze your tits off, I'm going inside."

"M," Ashley said softly. "Come here."

Miranda considered ignoring the request for about five seconds. Then she caved and eagerly allowed herself to be folded into her partner's arms. As she nestled her back against the warmth of Ashley's chest and felt strong arms wrap around her body, her foul mood faded considerably. It disappeared altogether when the taller woman leaned her chin atop her shoulder and pressed her cold lips against her neck. Her entire body responded with a delicious shiver.

They remained pressed together for almost a minute before Ashley broke the silence. "I received a message from Alliance brass a few hours ago." The tone of her voice was so close to being miserable that Miranda knew her words could only herald bad news. "I'm to report back to Melbourne by 0900."

The first response that almost left Miranda's lips was a tirade of expletives aimed at the 'chicken-shit outfit' that was responsible for such a cruel decision. However, as Ashley's arms tightened around her body in an obvious attempt to find a few last moments of solace, she held them all back behind gritted teeth.

"I guess the Alliance realised that they're not safe without the _Normandy_ on duty. I should be grateful for three whole days with you." For her partner's sake, Miranda kept the bitterness from her tone. She swivelled in Ashley's arms, bringing them face to face, and swallowed back a lump in her throat before continuing, "It has been wonderful, Ash."

A ragged sigh escaped Ashley's lips. "I was considering typing a reply of my own, telling them to kiss my ass." She lowered her face so she could press her lips to Miranda's. For several seconds their cold lips warmed against each other's in a heated, desperate exchange. When they drew apart, Ashley found her breath falling hot and heavy against Miranda's skin. "And that isn't helping," she murmured quietly.

Miranda straightened and fixed a determined expression on her face. "You're humanity's only Spectre, Ash…and the Commander of the Alliance's most famous frigate. Unfortunately, they need you more than I do."

"You're not that selfless, M," Ashley pointed out.

"Not usually no, but I've been trying out a few new things lately all in the name of the greater good," Miranda replied determinedly. "I'm either going to grind my teeth down to nubs or draw blood biting my lip all the time but I made it through OCS so it must be working." She worked her hand out from between their bodies and wrapped her slightly stiff fingers around the front of Ashley's jacket. Her thumb absently played with the zipper as a determined expression took root on her face. "Yesterday morning, when you asked me about whether I wanted children…I'm sorry for my reaction-" Ashley opened her mouth to interrupt but Miranda silenced her with a brief peck on the lips "- and I'm really sorry that I don't want a child-"

"It's fine-" Ashley began, her disappointed expression was completely different from her words.

"-I want at least two," Miranda continued in an emphatic tone. "After experiencing my own miserable childhood first-hand and having a glimpse into yours, I've decided we need more than one. So, I'm sorry, but you'd better hope that the Williams hips are made for child-bearing."

"Well my Mom had four so I think I come from good stock," Ashley said with a grin. Her gaze searched Miranda's face hungrily as she tried to commit every detail of the moment to memory. The fact that Miranda wanted to have a family with her left her feeling like the luckiest woman alive. Without warning, she slipped one of her cold hands under Miranda's jacket and pressed it against her stomach. The resulting gasp made her laugh. As her fingers tunnelled beneath the waist of Miranda's sweatpants, she found blue-eyes searching her own questioningly. "What's the flight time to Melbourne?"

"About three hours," Miranda replied, instinctively widening her stance as Ashley's fingers continued downward to press against her sex. "Why?" she asked breathlessly.

"Because I plan on being late." Ashley whispered in the second before she found Miranda's lips and began kissing her mercilessly. She used her free hand to pick up her lover's and guide it down to the waist of her own pants. Very little prompting was needed from that point and Ash soon felt cold fingers pressing against her own skin. Her body responded with an involuntary jerk when Miranda dragged one finger through the warmth between her legs.

With her buttocks pressed against the parapet behind her, Miranda felt Ashley surge forward hungrily against her body as she drove her hand in a series of delightfully firm strokes. With the cold and the unexpected contact, she was almost painfully dry. Nevertheless, she urged Ashley to move faster by pumping her hips against her hand. Desperate to cling to her lover and this last playful moment they could share, she ignored the cold, the layers of clothing between them and the awkward friction to concentrate on gently manipulating Ashley's clit beneath the tip of her finger. A light laugh bubbled out from between their lips when she felt delicious warmth suddenly start to coat her finger as Ashley's body responded to her touch.

She broke their kiss long enough to murmur against her lover's ear. "I love how quickly you're ready for me. You can move faster, Ash."

"I don't want to hurt-" Ashley's sentence was made redundant when she felt a matching wetness between Miranda's legs. The marine grinned and eagerly increased the pace of her strokes. "Damn I love you, Lawson."

"Because my body responds to your touch so easily?" Miranda asked as she nipped Ash's ear.

"Amongst other things," Ash agreed. "However I said I planned on being late, but I don't want to be _that_ late."

Miranda clamped down hard on the earlobe she had been gentling nibbling on. Ash swore in response but neither ceased their movements – instead they intensified. For several minutes they resumed their fierce kiss, tongues scraping against one another just as their bodies writhed and thrust. Both desperately wanted to feel more of the other, but they were determined to make do with their fingers working against each other's clit. The cold was momentarily banished in the pre-dawn darkness.

As often happened when Miranda touched her, Ashley found herself nearing orgasm all too quickly. The other woman's touch was driving her so close to the brink that each breath was little more than a hiss from between clenched teeth. While she fought to keep her own efforts as firm and rhythmic as possible, she felt her legs begin to grow weak beneath her.

"I'm…close!" she whispered urgently. Her free hand clutched at the back of Miranda's neck, fingers dragging through her hair. "M, please…slow. I want us…come…mmmph…together."

"A little faster…harder," Miranda hissed urgently into her ear. As Ashley complied, her own breathing quickened to the point where it was all she could hear inside her head. "Oh fuck…mmm…damn, that's perfect!"

"You're close?" Ashley asked tenderly.

"Mhmm," was all Miranda murmured into Ashley's hair.

From that point onwards, actual coherent words became both redundant and impossible. The awareness of both women dwindled until it was comprised entirely of their struggling bodies. Ashley grunted impatiently when Miranda's sweatpants hampered the rapid thrusting movement of her arm but she would not allow herself to pause long enough to drag them down. From the urgent breaths coming from Miranda's throat and the way her hand gripped the fabric on the back of her jacket, Ash knew she was close. The marine had hovered on the deliciously painful brink of her own orgasm for some time already. Through sheer willpower she held on until the second she heard an unintelligible cry catch in Miranda's throat. Ashley let herself go. The release that followed was all-consuming, to the point where she wasn't sure whether the stars were actually out or if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

Ash was aware of what followed as a series of staccato snapshots. Their bodies entwined like windblown trees that needed to rely on one another to stay upright. Her entire hand cupped Miranda's sex, revelling in the wet warmth and the gradually dying spasms of her lover's orgasm. Miranda's lips were pressed against the side of her neck where her breath created a tiny patch of moisture. She was dimly aware that her own underwear were soaked through and starting to cool against her skin in ways that were unpleasant. Ash eventually realised that Miranda was shivering in her arms.

"We need to get you inside," she eventually said, her words accompanied by the withdrawal of her hand. She wiped her fingers on her sweatpants and wrapped both arms around Miranda to keep her warm. "You'll catch your death."

Miranda shook her head. "I don't want to let you go, Ash." Her words were punctuated by a short, sharp sniff of the type that preceded tears.

"M…" Ashley whispered brokenly as she started to pull back.

"Don't you dare look at me, marine," Miranda hissed amidst her tears. "Just shut up and hold me with those damn huge biceps of yours. Just for a minute longer…then you can fuck off and go back to being a hero."

Thoroughly annoyed with herself for breaking down, Miranda squeezed her eyes shut against the flow of the tears. It was several minutes before she had managed to compose herself to the point where she could think about saying anything.

"Ash?" she asked. "Your sisters were trying to decide whether I was a ten or an eleven. I must confess that I have absolutely no idea what they were talking about and I don't want to offend them."

An almost carefree laugh escaped Ashley's lips. "Oh damn, it's awful but it's a scale of hotness with ten being the number of the perfect woman. You, Miranda Lawson, are undoubtedly an eleven."

* * *

 

**Location Withheld**

Shepard surprised herself by how quickly she had become accustomed to the restraints hampering her every movement. In trying to exercise whilst wearing them, she instinctively adapted to compensate. What she could not become used to was the aggravating sound they made every time she moved. The restraints clinked against every surface and seemed to rattle every time she even thought about moving. The incriminating sound served as a constant reminder of her of her status as a prisoner - that and the extremely precarious nature of her entire existence. From decorated Alliance hero, she was now essentially a non-entity.

Shepard gently eased her body into a plank position on the cold floor of her cell. The wrist restraints allowed for only a narrow base of support and her muscles protested slightly from just holding the plank let alone lowering herself to the floor. She dipped downwards several times with relative ease, but by the sixth push-up her body had already began to tremble with fatigue. She stubbornly forced herself to continue.

As she exercised, Shepard weighed up the scant information she possessed. Dr Stone had made it very clear just how little value the Alliance placed on her life let alone her comfort and sanity. Shepard still struggled with Stone's claim that it was the Alliance behind her imprisonment. To even acknowledge that the organisation to which she had dedicated much of her life condoned her treatment felt like a betrayal.

On only her thirteenth push-up, Shepard felt like her heart was going to explode. _Come on, Ev,_ she urged herself _. You used to be able to do this all-day long. Just five more._

Regardless of whether the information was true, Shepard emphatically refused to believe that either Hackett or Anderson knew anything about her incarceration. That they would eventually find out what had happened to her was one of the stubborn hopes she clung to.

_Seventeen._ Shepard hovered at the top of the movement, her arms shaking violently as they threatened to give out beneath her weight.

Of course her hope ignored the cruel reality that her own mother was implicit what was happening to her. _Eighteen!_

With a harsh exhalation Shepard collapsed hard against the floor. She lay breathing heavily, with the restraints digging into her body, for several moments before she could summon the energy to pick herself up. Rather than allow herself to simply give up, she manoeuvred into a balancing position on her buttocks and drew her knees to her chest. Even with the first extension of her legs, she felt just how little strength there was in her core. For someone so accustomed to being in peak physical condition, her frailty added to her anger and frustration. However, her own body was one of the few things she still had complete control over. Before Heller or someone else took that away from her, she would drive herself back to full fitness.

_Fuck you, Hannah_ , Shepard thought angrily as she managed to find a rhythmic movement with her leg thrusts. _Three, four, five_. She soon lost count as her thoughts were taken over by relentless expletives directed toward the woman who used to be her mother.

Even when the door to her cell opened Shepard continued pushing through her movements. She expected that someone had come to tell her to stop, or perhaps even strap her back to the damn bed again. Shepard snorted. Who the hell were _they_ to say she couldn't work out? She cast a cursory glance over her shoulder to see Dr Naomi Stone standing near the door with a tray of food in her hands and a concerned expression on her face.

"I thought you were a doctor," Shepard remarked, fighting to keep her voice as level as possible. "Yet you're bringing me my meals. Want to wipe my arse as well?"

She was in a foul mood and made no attempt to mask it. As sympathetic as Stone had been, she was still one of the perpetrators and not her friend.

"You shouldn't push yourself so hard," Stone said, ignoring Shepard's barbed question. She crossed to the bed and set the food down. "Your body is still very weak, exerting yourself like that could potentially send you back into shock."

Shepard did note that no guards had accompanied Stone into her cell, although she could see one hovering with beyond the door. It was an interesting observation. Even with the restraints, she would be able to overpower Stone in seconds if she desired. With barely a pause, she placed her bare feet on the floor and commenced doing sit-ups. Her abs were already protesting after the earlier exercise, they burned by the fifth one. Wordlessly, Stone hunkered down in front of her and pressed her hands against her feet to keep them fixed to the spot. Shepard's first observation was that the doctor's hands were pleasantly warm. It made a change from being constantly cold.

"I didn't think anyone around here was overly concerned with my welfare," Shepard commented as she pushed herself through each painful rise of her upper body.

"Well…some of us are," the doctor replied quietly. She watched Shepard with her lips parted slightly. Her voice lowered to a whisper, "You may have forgotten certain things from your past, but I haven't."

By this point in time Shepard's abdominals had erupted in a fierce pain that made every additional sit-up feel like her last one. Eventually she had to give Stone the satisfaction of seeing her stop out of sheer exhaustion. Rather than sit up and face the woman, she flopped down onto her back and lay staring up at the ceiling.

"I remember everything, Evan," Stone said as her hands lingered unnecessarily on Shepard's feet.

As soon as she felt the gentle but unexpected caress of one of the doctor's fingers against the top of her foot, Shepard forced herself into a sitting position. She dragged her feet back toward her body and out of Stone's grasp.

"The things you did to me that night…" Stone's voice trailed off, an unreadable expression on her face. She then caught herself and cast a worried glance toward the door. The guard outside was still not paying them any attention. "Sorry, you must be hungry."

Shepard's stomach responded for her with an insistent and audible rumble of hunger. She quickly stood unaided. However as soon as she went to take a step forward she tottered on her exhausted legs. Before she could fall, Stone wrapped both arms around her waist and held her steady. Although necessary, the contact felt overly intimate. Shepard felt her entire body stiffen in response. The last time someone held her, it had been Hannah Shepard. That had not turned out so well for her. For a few brief moments she remembered the tender manner in which Liara held her. _Am I ever going to feel those arms around me again_? she asked herself in a brief surrender to her despair. Stone's hand pressed just beneath her breasts.

"You could relax a little you know. I'm not here to hurt you," the doctor said quietly.

Shepard exhaled, letting out a breath that she did not even know she had been holding. "I'm not inclined to believe you, not as long as I'm still in this hellhole."

Stone helped her to the bed and then into a sit on the edge. The tray she subsequently handed her was laden with the same colourless, almost tasteless ooze she had been given every other day.

"You're not exactly a patient woman are you?" Stone replied, her mouth creasing into a smile.

Shepard shook her head as she began shovelling spoonfuls into her mouth. The food – if it could even be called that – slithered down her throat unpleasantly and left a filmy residue clinging to the inside of her mouth. They could have been poisoning her for all she knew but she was so hungry she didn't care.

"I might be able to arrange access to the small exercise facility we have here," Stone commented as she ate. "It's not much, but you would be able to walk on a treadmill – no running though, not until I give you the all clear."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Have you run that past Heller?" she asked with her mouth still full.

"I'm in charge of your day-to-day care," Stone replied, thrusting her chin forward defiantly. "If Heller doesn't like it, he can kiss my ass."

Although still wary, Shepard nodded. "I'd like that. Thank you." _I've fucked dozens of women and the one that I barely remember is risking her life to help me. Why?_ Even as the thought lingered in her mind, Shepard knew that she could not afford to piss off her one ally and possible avenue of escape. She swallowed her last mouthful and fixed a small, hopefully friendly smile on her face. "I'm sorry about my earlier comment…you wiping my arse? It was rude and uncalled for."

Obviously pleased with her attempt at an apology, Stone shook her head. "No, you're understandably angry. Feel free to let it out on me as opposed to Heller or someone who carries a gun. Wiping your arse isn't exactly the worst thing I could do."

Shepard cringed inwardly in response to the tone in the other woman's voice, but externally she managed a slightly embarrassed grin before continuing, "Naomi, do you think you could swing a few other perks…on promise of good behaviour of course. For starters, this food…do you think you could get me something else?"

* * *

 

**London, Earth**

David gripped the battered mug in his hands. As he raised it to his lips and took a long swill, he wished the drink was something other than cold tea made from leaves that had already been used too many times. Without tearing his eyes away from the console in front of him, he wiped his other, work-dirtied hand on the thigh of his trousers. He then fumbled in his top pocket, slowly drawing out a folded photo. The photo remained clutched gently between his fingers while he re-read the words on the screen in front of him. When he lifted the mug to his lips to drain the dregs, it clattered slightly against his teeth.

_Surely you're not scared, old man?_ he asked himself as he set the mug down. _What can they possibly do to you that is worse than what you're living through?_

With his hand freed from holding the mug, he stretched out and tapped his fingers against the actual physical keyboard to make a few edits to his work. When done, he sat back in his chair and stared at the screen. He didn't need to re-read the message yet again. David already knew that he had said everything that needed saying. Nor was he gifted enough with words to improve the quality of what he had written. There was no slant, no hidden message, no tricks – just the plain facts of what he had seen with his own eyes.

He reached absently for his mug. A frayed sigh escaped his lips when he remembered that he had already finished the drink. With nothing else to do he finally turned his attention to the precious item he held in his fingers. Reverently he opened the photo. As the smiling faces within were revealed, he found himself fighting back tears as per usual. Taken a lifetime ago, the image was a line-up of smiling faces – a snapshot of happiness. He had his eyes closed of course, but Amanda and the kids were so photogenic, all beaming and rosy-cheeked. David often wondered how a potential screw-up like him from the slums of the South-East had managed to end up with a picture-perfect family. Before he could give over to the tears completely, he carefully re-folded the picture and tucked it back into his pocket.

With nothing else to concentrate on, David turned his attention back to the message still clinging to the screen in front of him. His finger poised above the command key as he ran his gaze over the message one last time.

TO: enquiriesANN; WesterlundNews; mailGNN; GuardianNews; enquiriesDailyMail

FROM: region2ThamesWater

SUBJECT: Shepard

This may sound like the bullshit ramblings of a crazy guy. I'm not crazy – I fought the Reapers like a lot of other people and now I'm just a normal citizen with a job that happens to take me beneath the streets of London.

Two weeks ago I found Commander Shepard beneath the ruins of the Crucible. She was unconscious and in some sort of protective field that later collapsed. I held her body in my arms for several minutes. I've seen vids and pics of the soldier that she was – as we all have - but she was thin…weak, helpless – like she'd spent the previous six months sleeping. Hibernating? Don't ask me how the hell she survived, I'm no scientist. I'm just telling you what I saw and felt. I can't describe what I felt when she opened those pale blue eyes of hers and looked at me, but it was Shepard. Against all the odds, she survived.

The Alliance took over everything from that point. A captain named Prowse was on site and locked everything down. For days afterwards the Alliance swarmed all over the site and my crew and I were shipped out to a different location. Told me and my buddy not to breathe a word of her survival to anyone. I didn't originally see it spoken as a threat, but I'm beginning to think that it was. There are people out there that know that Shepard is alive and where she is. I don't know what reason they would have, or what kind of game they're playing, but someone, I don't know whether it is the Alliance itself, is hiding Commander Shepard.

All I'm asking you is to do some digging, ask some hard questions of the Alliance. Wherever Shepard is, I know she doesn't deserve to be hidden away. Regardless of the morale boost this would offer to everyday people trying to rebuild their lives, there are people out there that care about her and they deserve to know the truth.

[end message]

Before David could second guess himself, he stabbed his finger downward – just once. It hit the command key with an emphatic tap and a split second later his message disappeared into the ether. An odd sense of resignation settled over him as he sat staring at the blank screen. For some reason he expected to feel…something. There was nothing other than a sense that he had fulfilled his purpose.

A few minutes later David left his office with the sole focus of finding something stronger to drink than cold tea. If the Alliance was going to come for him, then he at least wanted the opportunity to get absolutely plastered first.

 


	9. Between a Stone and a Hard Place

**Location Withheld**

Although her recovery was not miraculous by any stretch of the imagination, Shepard regained a significant amount of strength with each passing day. It wasn't merely evident in the increased number of repetitions she could do whilst exercising, her reactions were improving and her body was slowly filling out. Although she still had very little muscle definition, her bones no longer protruded so grotesquely beneath her skin. When she peered at her reflection in the two-way mirror she could clearly see her cheeks to be less hollow and her skin less sallow. Some vibrancy had started to creep back into her previously sunken gaze. The simple act of looking in the mirror no longer dredged up instant revulsion.

Whatever the Catalyst had done to her body, her Cerberus implants had finally been successfully repressed. All evidence of the maze of scars had been erased from her body. It was only in the depths of night that she still felt as though they were there – tearing at her skin.

While Shepard no longer considered herself to be a part of the Alliance, nothing could change the fact that she was a soldier. A sense of military precision returned with her self-controlled exercise regime. Shepard took what care she could in her attire. Her t-shirt was always tucked neatly into the cargos she wore. She was even becoming used to grappling with long hair for the first time in her life, having mastered the art of folding it up into a neat knot at the back of her head.

Following her request from Stone for a varied diet, the pale white goo that she had previously been fed was replaced by meals with actual colour. While they were mostly rehydrated military rations, sometimes they were actually warm. Dried fruit had appeared with her breakfast that morning and an actual chocolate bar came with lunch. In her old life Shepard disliked chocolate, but she wolfed it down as though it was the most wondrous substance ever to hit her taste buds.

They were all small victories in the wider scheme of her incarceration, but they allowed Shepard access to a fraction of hope. While her existence had not become any less precarious and she still half-expected her life to end suddenly, she felt more like an actual human and not some unfortunate waste product that no one knew what to do with.

However for all her gains, Shepard soon found out just how little it took for her to be reduced to an angry, violent approximation of herself. She was filling the time between dinner and her evening shower with something resembling meditation – mostly it involved seeing how long she could remain cross-legged on the cold floor without growing bored. The door clicked open. Although at first she was determined not to open her eyes, she knew the footsteps were too heavy to belong to Dr Stone but too light to be someone wearing military issue boots.

As soon as her eyes opened, her face instinctively twisted into a snarl. She had the distinct irritation of finding herself in the presence of Dr Bryan Heller for the first time in several days. The comment she wanted to make remained behind clenched teeth, but she did not miss the fact that he had entered her cell alone. Although Shepard was still wearing her restraints, it would take her only a matter of seconds to rise to her feet and snap his scrawny neck. She was pondering whether the reprisals would be worth it when she saw his customary obnoxious demeanour slip. He cast a quick glance toward the two-way mirror before setting his narrow shoulders determinedly. Shepard could only stare in disbelief as he drew darted across the room toward her with furtive movements. He seized her wrists and swiftly deactivated the restraints. At the moment that they clattered to the ground, Shepard's response finally kicked in. She surged forward and effortlessly knocked him onto his back. The doctor let out a strangled gasp when she pressed her knee atop his torso and jammed her forearm hard against his throat. His legs kicked beneath her as he tried to free himself.

"You have about twenty seconds before I crush your windpipe," Shepard said in a low voice. "Explain what the hell you're doing."

"No…time!" he gasped.

She applied more pressure. "Not the answer I was looking for."

"Getting you…out of here," Heller wheezed, clawing at her spindly forearm. Without the advantage of gravity, Shepard knew she would not have been able to keep him down. His eyes were bulging with what appeared to be fear. "Two minutes!"

"What about it?" Shepard demanded harshly. She refused to believe a word of what he was saying.

"Gah! Cameras…guards…two minute window!" he spluttered desperately. When Shepard lifted her weight slightly he drew in a wheezing breath and continued. "Every second you spend trying to kill me, is another you could be getting the fuck out of this pit!"

"I think you'll understand why I don't believe a fucking word out of your mouth, you arsehole!" Shepard growled.

"For Christ's sake, the way I treated you...it was all a sham," he pleaded. "My entire family, my goddamn kids...they were taken from the colony on Freedom's Progress by the Collectors. The Alliance didn't do a goddamn thing. The only one who cared was you. You and your crew were too late to save my family, but I knew it was you who stopped the fucking Collectors. Dammit, let me up or you'll kill us both, Commander Shepard."

Shepard did not know why, but she eased the pressure on his neck and eventually rolled away altogether. She was still regarding him warily when he scrambled to his feet with surprising dexterity. He withdrew something from his pocket and held it out for her to take.

"Omni-tool," he said quickly, handing over the device. His gaze darted over his shoulder. "I've got weapons and clothing stashed one floor up. Have I convinced you sufficiently?"

"No," Shepard growled. She rose to her feet and tested the device by flash-forging an omni-blade. "But I'll give you an opportunity to convince me further before I bury this in your chest. Lead the way, Dr Heller."

Less than a minute later, everything that had happened had still not managed to sink in. Shepard found herself squeezed into a narrow service elevator of the type usually reserved for food and tools as opposed to people. Her limbs were folded close against her body and Heller was pressed up against her, his elbow jamming into her ribs. He was so close she could feel his hot, panicked breaths falling on her cheek. Being in such close proximity to the man still made her skin crawl, but a dangerous element of hope was taking hold at the back of her mind.

"Why now?" Shepard demanded in a whisper. "Has something changed?"

"I don't know exactly…but something big has happened," Heller wheezed, already out of breath despite the short distance they had covered. "The military types are nervous. There's been increasing mentions of 'termination.' Although you're just a dumb grunt, surely I don't need to spell that out what that means for you."

"Forgive me if I'm sceptical, Heller-"

"You can be as sceptical as you want when we're out of here, until then I'm going to need you to be our muscle. In case you haven't realised, I'm a doctor not a marine," Heller insisted.

"And I'm not exactly in peak condition!" Shepard hissed as the dumbwaiter finally ground to a halt.

She helped Heller manually slide the door open. When they extracted themselves from the narrow space, Shepard saw that they were in decent-sized kitchen. There were no personnel in sight but a dirty food preparation surface indicated that someone had been in there recently. Ignoring the fact that her bare feet were freezing, Shepard followed Heller. The doctor was thoroughly crap at the art of stealth as his footsteps made audible sounds on the tiles and his breathing was more than loud enough to give them away. Shepard on the other hand moved gracefully, the omni-tool clasped firmly in her palm for quick deployment.

It was her keen awareness that saw movement beyond the kitchen door. Before Heller could react, Shepard surged forward past him. As soon as the door opened and a body moved through the gap, she used her slight body weight to draw the person through. Without pausing to assess what she was up against, Shepard drove her elbow forward and sent the man sprawling. Although she felt a brief moment of hesitation, she extended her omni-blade and buried it deep in the man's chest, through the blue of his Alliance uniform. While Heller uttered a surprised squawk behind her, Shepard clamped her hand over the soon-to-be-dead man's mouth. She knew she could have just as easily crushed his windpipe with her artificial hand, but the thought of doing that felt strangely repulsive. His bright green eyes bulged as bloody bubbled between his lips and her clenched fingers. Shepard forced herself to meet the young man's gaze as he died – wondering briefly if he actually knew what they had done to her or if he was just doing his job.

"You killed him!" Heller whispered in horror as Shepard dragged his body and shoved it beneath one of the counters.

"He was a soldier," Shepard replied. She needed to stay cold or she would fall to pieces. "Death happens."

Heller glanced at his chrono. "The shit's about to hit the fan in less than thirty seconds, depending on how vigilant the next shift is, we may have longer if they don't realise you're gone." He led the way out of the kitchen and into a service corridor.

"They'll know the cameras have been tampered with," Shepard suggested. "I wouldn't count on more time."

"Possibly," Heller said as he moved into an awkward run. He eventually paused outside a door and yanked it open, ushering Shepard inside. "I think haste is of the essence regardless." As Shepard ducked inside, Heller paused in the open doorway. "You'll find warm clothes and a pistol in that black bag. Once you're dressed activate your omni, I've pre-loaded the schematics for this level. Follow the route I've marked out…do not deviate! Don't trust anyone else…and certainly not that twisted bitch Stone."

Shepard frowned as she tugged on a pair of boots. "Stone? But-"

"Especially not Stone!" Heller hissed abruptly. "You may think you have her wrapped around your finger, but that woman is all monster – she's playing you, Shepard."

_What the hell kind of game is that?_ Shepard asked herself – confused as to why the blonde would bother to toy with her in such a manner. She shrugged off the uneasiness that played at the back of her mind. "Where the hell are you going?"

"If I don't take down the defence grid, the shuttle won't be able to get in close enough to lift you off," he explained. "The personnel on duty tonight had a little something extra in their evening meal so they'll be very cooperative."

"To lift me off?" Shepard asked. Her damned fingers wouldn't stop trembling as she strapped the boots up. "What about you?"

Heller actually managed a normal smile. "This was never going to end well for me, Commander Shepard. Once you get outside, I've pre-programmed a beacon into your omni. It'll signal the shuttle. You'll just have to pray that I managed to disable the grid or it'll be a fucking short trip."

"I don't pray, doc. Just make sure you get it done." Shepard finished with her boots and drew out a heavy coat. It was thermal lined, but she would have preferred body armour – a chestplate at the least. "Where the hell are we anyway?"

"Alberta, Canada," Heller replied bluntly. "So you'll be glad of it once you get outside." He glanced again at his chrono. "It'll take me two minutes to get to the grid, another three to get it down. I'll barricade myself in the control room but at the most you've got seven…maybe eight minutes to get out. Good luck, Commander Shepard."

Shepard checked the thermal clip on the Predator he'd given her. She had to resist the urge to shoot him for old time's sake. "I guess I should thank you."

"I had a family once…" Heller sighed with regret. "You can thank me by getting the hell out of here."

As Heller disappeared down a corridor without a glance over his shoulder, Shepard could not shake the awful thought that the whole thing was some sort of sick game. However as she brought up the schematics on her omni, she banished such fears to the back of her mind and began moving.

Shepard realised just how fragile she was when she tried to maintain a brisk jog. The heavy jacket and boots weighed her down at every step. Each breath burned painfully in her chest and she doubted whether she would even be able to lift the pistol if she ran into any Alliance personnel. The death of the young man in the kitchen still ate away at her conscience. How old had he been? Early twenties? Even younger? Her lungs rattled in her chest as she drew deeper breaths. She knew without a doubt that she would kill as many people as it took to see Liara again. As far as she was concerned, everyone in this facility was guilty - whether they were a marine or a goddamn kitchen hand.

Somewhere in the compound she imagined the panic that would happen when they discovered she was missing from her cell. She knew with certainty that it would be brief and quickly replaced by a ruthless efficiency that would not end until they had hunted her down. Shepard was under absolutely no illusion as to the severity of the consequences if she failed to escape.

Shepard paused as the map on her omni led her into a dim open space full crates and what looked like discarded tech. The only illumination came from the dull red glow of power-save lights overhead. It was barely enough to see by at first, but her vision soon became accustomed enough to maintain her pace. She checked her distance. There was a maintenance shaft less than fifty metres ahead of her. It would be a long climb to the surface, but if Heller had been able to carry out his task then she would have a chance. She felt it again, the potentially dangerous pulse of hope.

_If Heller actually pulls this off, I might have to think about naming one of my kids Bryan_ , Shepard mused as she squeezed her body through a narrow gap between two crates. Even though there was very little to her, the bulky coat meant she had difficulty fitting. She heard the hiss of fabric ripping as she caught herself on a jagged piece of metal. Before she could arrest its momentum, a heavy but precariously balanced piece of tech came crashing downwards. _Shit!_

Although Shepard darted out of the way, the resulting crash reverberated around the space. She continued moving forward when a familiar shape caught the corner of her eye. Shepard was aware of the urgency of the situation, but she turned to see a familiar elegant, slender body suspended between two shackles. Had the individual been human, the position would have been immeasurably painful. However, she was not.

"My god," Shepard whispered in abject horror as she stopped moving altogether. With her mouth parted, she faced the helpless form suspended in front of her. Although her once unblemished carapace was pitted and cracked, the form was unmistakable. The optical visor that usually hovered in front of her blank eyes was absent. As Shepard rose to her feet, the figure lifted her head to look up at her Commander. "EDI."

The A.I opened her mouth to communicate, but all that emerged was a mechanical sound from which no real words could be discerned. With her escape temporarily paused, Shepard scrambled forward over the detritus littering the floor and stopped in front of EDI. Her gaze roamed over the shackles that held each of her arms, searching for some means of release. There was another grating metallic sound as EDI again tried to speak – a series of clicks and whirrs were punctuated by high-pitched tones. Although the A.I's face was as expressionless as ever, Shepard projected her own pain and frustration.

"...leave zzzz..."

The single abrupt word caught Shepard off guard. She shook her head stubbornly as she clambered atop a nearby crate to examine the shackles. "I'll be damned if I'm going to leave you here," Shepard hissed fiercely.

The whirrs and clicks hummed in an agitated song. "Comman...save yourzzzz...plzzz-" EDI's voice cut out, but her head continued to move from side to side as though she was shaking her head.

"No, you're part of my crew, EDI."

Shepard finally located a series of circuits atop the shackle. She shorted one with a tech burst from the omni-tool. A sudden flare of sparks was accompanied by a wrenching sound as EDI's right hand came free. The A.I fell, her body jerking as her feet hit the floor.

"Shepard, you must...leave," she insisted, her voice suddenly clearer. "I am not...fulzzz functional. Motor controlzz are...zzz offline."

"Dammit, EDI, I'll carry you!" Shepard said as she scrambled to the second shackle. However even as the words left her lips, she knew that there was no way she could possibly haul EDI up the maintenance shaft in her current state. It would have been a tall ask had she been fully fit and wearing her hardsuit. "Are you still in contact with the _Normandy_?" Shepard asked as she recharged her omni for a second burst.

"Negative, when my mobile platform was damaged I lost integration. Zzzzz shadow...of my program remains within the platform but it is...fragmented...brokenzzz," EDI explained. "…worthless."

Shepard opened her mouth to refute the AI's assertion when the lights came on without warning, illuminating every corner of the previously dark space. She heard a sudden, loud crack pierce the cold air. Almost instantaneously something slammed violently into her right shoulder. Her entire body pirouetted through the air – almost gracefully at first until she came crashing down hard on the floor at EDI's feet.

_I've been shot_ , was the thought that registered as she dragged her body behind cover. _No shit, Ev._ "Fuck!" She hissed as pain laced throughout her entire body. Shepard heard heavy boots thudding urgently on the other on the other side of the space. Although she had difficulty trying to make her limbs respond the way they were supposed to, her numb fingers fumbled for the Predator jammed into the pocket of her coat. She forced her fingers to curl around the hilt and she drew it out. With barely a glance, Shepard fired several shots over the crate. Frantic shouts followed as her pursuers dove for cover.

The first thought that entered her mind was that Heller had led her into the suspected trap, but when she peered over the crate she caught a glimpse of her rescuer being forced to his knees in the distance. The doctor's face was a bloody, almost unrecognisable pulp and she felt a sharp pang of regret as she sank back into cover.

Her soldier's mind analysed the situation within a short space of time. The shot to her shoulder, although agonising, was merely a flesh wound and not bleeding profusely enough to require staunching. With the lights up she could clearly see the entrance to the maintenance tunnel only a few metres from her current position. There was however little chance that she would be able to make it that far. Her glance had confirmed at least half a dozen pursuers, if not more. A shot pinged off the top of the crate, scant centimetres from her head. Shepard responded with a scattering of her own shots. Most were only cursorily aimed, but she heard at least a few grunts of pain and one sharp cry.

"She...pard." Shepard glanced upward to find EDI looking down at her. She knew that the AI's face was technically expressionless, but she could not deny that there was something very human in the way her eyes were half-lidded and her lips left parted. "Go," EDI urged, her finally voice crystal clear.

Again the stubborn shake of her head. "I'm not leaving you behind!" Shepard hissed. Despite the vehemence of her voice and her gestures, the impossibility of saving her crewmember was dawning on her. _Shit...EDI, would I leave anyone else behind in this place?_ _Joker...I didn't leave Joker behind._

A scattering of gunfire burst over her head. Shepard responded – this time with only two carefully aimed shots which brought down one target. She knew that they were boxing her in. Her time in which to do anything was fast running out. The difficulty lay in the fact that Shepard had no solution to her current predicament. At least not until she saw EDI make a casting motion with her free hand. From the other end of the warehouse there was the sudden sound of panic. The gunfire was no longer directed at her but at EDI's decoy as it shocked those closest to it with a stunning attack.

"Thank you, EDI," Shepard murmured in the moments before she broke cover.

Without risking a glance behind her, she threw everything she had into the sprint for the maintenance shaft. Her body slammed into the narrow gap. When she expected to feel gunfire tearing through her unprotected flesh, there was instead the ear shattering sound of an explosion behind her. Shepard focused on the ladder in front of her and putting hand over hand to climb. The screams of wounded and dying soldiers served only to drive her upwards faster.

Shepard lost track of how many rungs she grasped. She climbed until the fingers of her right hand were raw and there was almost no strength left in her limbs. Although she stubbornly tried to ignore her wounded shoulder, it became impossible when it sent stabbing pains radiating out across her chest. She forced down the sense of futility in her gut, instead concentrating on one moment after the other. The map on her omni continued to mark out the path and she took turns and various ladders as indicated. Eventually she heard the sounds of pursuit somewhere behind her. The hatch was within sight, it was locked but Heller had obviously pre-programmed the code. When she approached it flashed to green. She threw her body against it, trying to force it upwards. The meagre weight almost threatened to defeat her. The irony was not lost on her as she struggled – so close to freedom only to be denied by the last hatch. With a frustrated scream, Shepard pushed with her shoulders and finally managed to force it upwards.

When she burst through the hatch, Shepard threw herself over the edge. In a tangle of limbs and broken undergrowth, her body crashed down a small slope. At the same time she felt something unfamiliar assault her nostrils – the smell of fresh air. With a grunt of effort she drove herself to her feet and started running. Nothing would work like it was supposed to. Despite the fact that she knew what movements she needed to make to run, her legs felt as though they were working against her. They splayed out at awkward angles, her toes catching on roots and sending her crashing to the ground more than once.

As she ran, Shepard took in the thickly wooden terrain. Towering sentinel-like trees hemmed her in and pressed down on her from above. She pushed herself down a steep, rocky slope. Her legs were moving too fast for any sort of control but she wasn't in a position to care about breaking her ankle. The fact that she had no idea where the hell she was going was far more pressing. Heller had said that there would be a shuttle, but he had also said that he would take down the defence grid. Shouts rang out much too close behind her. Somewhere overhead she heard the distinct whine of a Kodiak drop shuttle. The familiar sound brought back a flood of memories. It seemed like a different time when she'd had the bulky reassurance of her hardsuit and squadmates at her back. She had only ever needed a quick glance over her shoulder to confirm that Liara was with her. The asari's sapphire blue gaze would shine with exhilaration as she responded with a firm nod.

_Liara_.

Shepard was spent. Her ravaged body was close to giving up altogether but she pushed herself forward until she was almost beneath the shuttle hovering above. The prospect of leaving the underground hellhole behind her was so close, she could not suppress the rampant hope that surged through her body. The shuttle was dropping into a clearing so small its side almost scraped against the foliage surrounding it.

Before she could sigh with relief, her question as to whether Heller had managed to take the grid offline was answered. One moment the shuttle was making a controlled descent, the next it was falling in flames. Shepard froze. It was as though the image was flash-burned into her mind. Although she was aware that the Alliance was closing in on her rapidly she could not make her legs work again, or summon the willpower to fight for her life. Shepard dropped to one knee. She had to force herself to draw in great, gulping breaths just to keep from blacking out. Her eyes slid closed. She saw everything in reverse – the burning shuttle, her failure to save EDI, and the nauseating helplessness that had become her life. Before that the war had consumed her life to the point where she had died twice.

_Who the hell fucking dies twice? Most people have the good sense to stay dead._

However throughout that time Shepard had been given the opportunity to know what it felt like to be complete. At the moment that Dr Liara T'Soni had fallen into her arms on Therum, her life had been already falling apart, but she had found something to anchor herself to, a reason to push through. Regardless of how exhausted she was, she owed it to herself and Liara to not give up. Shepard reached out and placed her hand on a nearby tree, feeling the bark dig into the raw flesh of her palm. She gripped and dragged herself back to her feet as her eyes opened. Her legs started to work. It was more of a drunken stumble than a run, but she was moving.

Up ahead she heard the sound of water. It was little more than a quiet murmur at first. As she drew closer, the murmur became a rumble. Shepard pushed toward it and the rumble developed into an almost deafening roar. Even thought she could not see it, she could feel that it was close.

_Bad idea, Ev._ Although it was the only decision she could make, it didn't mean that it was a good one. _I know you like swimming, but this is a really...really bad idea_.

When gunfire started punching holes in the trees around her, Shepard knew that she had no choice. She threw herself over the edge without hesitation. Her body launched out over the chasm, seeming to hover above the churning white mess below for a split second. For that brief flash of time she finally felt free. In the next instant she was falling.

When she hit the water it felt like she'd slammed into a hard surface – like stone.

* * *

 

Dr Naomi Stone stepped into the blast radius created by the AI's exploding decoy. A sneer ruined her otherwise beautiful features as she stared at the shattered bodies by her feet. Her fingers curled into fiercely clenched fists, firm enough to drive her nails into her palm. She glanced over her shoulder and her face twisted further when she saw a grotesque grin on the face of the man kneeling behind her. He was rapidly obscured from view as two squads of soldiers filed into the room.

She scowled when they simply stood and stared, awaiting her orders. "For fuck's sake, beta squad get your cocks out of each other's asses and hunt that bitch down!"

As they moved out and Stone turned her attention to Heller, an insistent beeping sounded from her omni-tool. With a frustrated growl torn from the back of her throat, she opened it.

_{Status, Dr Stone?}_ The male voice on the other end was hard and uncompromising.

"Shepard will be under control momentarily," Stone informed him in a hard voice. _Damn you, Heller_ , she ground her back teeth together. _You had to choose now to grow a goddamn spine!_

_{I don't need to tell you what it will mean for you if Shepard manages to escape,}_ he continued.

Stone was unfazed. "She's wounded and unconditioned, she won't get far. And the traitorous bastard Heller?"

_{Deal with him,}_ was the swift response.

Stone looked up at the nearest Alliance marine. She merely jerked her head toward the now trembling doctor.

A low growl emerged from Heller's throat. "The Alliance will never get away with this. Whatever it is that's got you all pissing your pants, it's out there now. Shepard has friends and-"

A spray of blood and brain matter erupted from the back of Heller's head. Stone looked down in disgust as some hit her white trouser leg. The dead man's body pitched forward. His eyes were still open and staring in some sort of accusation.

"Oh Bryan," Stone smirked, poking at Heller's body with the toe of her shoe. "You misguided fool. I assure you, our secret is not out there."

_{And Dr Stone?}_ There was a brief pause on the other end of the comm. _{You have my permission to break Shepard. I don't care if there's nothing left after you've finished with her. She's a liability.}_

"Yes, sir." Despite her failure, Stone could not restrain the glee in her tone. She powered down her omni-tool and turned to the remaining squad of soldiers. "Get the hell outside with the rest of the grunts. I want Shepard found within the hour."

She closed her eyes, listening until the last footsteps had faded from her hearing. Once alone, Stone walked the length of the warehouse. Eventually she came to stand in front of the female-like form still trapped by its arm. The thing regarded her without any trace of expression on its ruined face. It sickened Stone that such an abomination had been allowed to roam unshackled.

"Does the phrase 'melted down for scrap' mean anything to you?" Stone murmured – speaking more to herself than the thing in front of her.

It cocked its head to one side. A series of undecipherable sounds emerged from which only three words were spoken with any clarity. “Gozz…fuck…youzzzzelf.”

* * *

 

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

Liara watched the soft blue glow given off by her biotic corona as it danced above her fingertips. Although she was controlling the field to an extent, the curls and wisps of dark energy created a unique pattern of their own accord. She stood, watching and marvelling at the power she held. The simple act was something Liara had not done since she was young. However she remembered how it had served as a focal point for her thoughts or something beautiful to stare at in an otherwise dull, dark space.

The training program began slowly. It was a necessity given the ordeal her body was still trying to recover from. She went through an exaggerated motion with her first Throw, sending it arcing across the space only to miss the target. Liara paused and drew a breath as she lined up the next one. Her second attack also went wide. They were both only narrow misses, but in the heat of combat such mistakes were often the difference between life and death.

_Focus, T'Soni,_ she urged herself. For a few seconds, Liara closed her eyes. Flashes of light pierced her eyelids as the next targets formed. The split second she opened them she forced herself to ignore the need for a cooldown and threw two successive Warp attacks. Both slammed into the dead centre of their respective targets. _That's more like it_.

As the program continued, gradually building in intensity and complexity, Liara began to feel at ease with the movements. It was like slipping back into an old suit she had not worn for some time only to find that her body had changed and it no longer fit as perfectly as it once did. Subtle alterations were needed before she could find a sense of familiar comfort.

In the wake of Aegir's attempt to turn her into a Banshee, Liara had not paused to analyse the effects of the treatment on her biotics. She had first-hand experience that something crucial had changed based merely on the abilities that had suddenly manifested in her repertoire. The biotic charge was, by its very nature, a violently offensive tactic that her old self would have shunned. However during the Battle for Earth and the brutal fight for Omega she had employed it to devastating effect. Her combat style had changed from biotic support to something she had difficulty describing – it was visceral, risky and so far removed from what she once was that she had difficulty recognising herself. There was almost nothing left of the reclusive archaeologist she had been just several years earlier.

Liara's arm snapped downwards, executing another attack with clipped precision. _Should I be grateful to Shepard's memory for what I have become…or resentful?_ Had the Reapers not begun their cycle of destruction, Liara was almost certain that she would still be that individual - scratching around underground in ruins no one else cared about, writing papers that no one read and altogether ignorant of the exquisite pain of loving someone like Shepard - a bright, vibrant flame that scorched everything in its path.

When the initial program ended, a thin sheen of sweat had started to form on her brow but her heart rate had barely increased above its usual resting state. Liara's lust for exertion remained vastly unsatisfied. She padded across to the controls in her bare feet. Although Mack's compound still maintained a temperature that seemed only a few degrees above freezing, she was clad simply in a sleeveless vest that had once belonged to Shepard and a pair of thermal tights. After spending much of the past few days wearing thick jumpers and bundled beneath blankets, the freedom of movement was appreciated. Although she knew that Mack would not approve, she selected one of the most challenging programs and returned to the centre of the room.

This time there was no gradual increase in tempo. As soon as the program commenced, the targets crowded every angle of her vision. There was no time for grace or flair as her movements instead became precise out of necessity. She lost all sense of time as the sweat and heart rate that she had been striving for finally took hold. The beads formed at the nape of her neck and trickled down her back, soaking Shepard's vest.

As the target lights danced around her body, often managing to dart in close before she could deal with them, Liara found a sense of peace that had eluded her during previous workouts. All too often, although she pushed herself to the limits of her endurance, she still had the strength to succumb to an irrational anger. This time it was absent, replaced by a sense of clarity that heightened her senses and gave her an edge despite her weakened physical state.

Liara could pinpoint almost the exact movement at which her serenity shifted. She had attempted a few biotic charges already without ill effect. However when she prepared to throw herself forward again, an opposing force slammed into her. As she aborted the charge her body was literally thrown backwards. Liara stumbled, her legs refusing to work properly before they gave out on her altogether. Her knees hit the ground hard. As she knelt on the cold floor, Liara struggled to process what was happening despite an unrelenting familiarity tugging at her mind. Whatever she was feeling, she was supposed to know it intimately. Yet at the same time something was very wrong.

The darkened room disappeared as her mind slipped into a meld-like state that she had never experienced before. Liara caught snatches of experiences or memories from someone. She found herself struggling for breath as water forced its way into her lungs. It was as though she were drowning in the middle of her compound. Understanding came only when it was too late. At the moment that she was about to black out, her mind finally touched on the elusive, distant partner to the meld. The contact was fleeting, but Liara needed very little to know emphatically who it was. It was the bright burning flame. The other half of her self.

"Evan!"

In that split second everything was torn apart. Her fragile sense of reality crumpled as the rules were suddenly changed. She pitched forward and vomited violently on the floor in front of her. For almost a minute her stomach continued to heave even though there was nothing more to expel. When she finally drew in a gasping breath, the hope that ought to have been soaring throughout her body was muted.

"Goddess….Evan." The whisper grated against her raw throat. _Evan, for the love of the Goddess please hold on. I'm coming for you. I promise!_ There was a brutal disconnect and the meld ended without Liara knowing if Shepard had heard her words.

Behind her she heard the door to the room open and urgent footsteps pounded on the floor. Suddenly Mack was there, gathering her limp body up into his arms. His presence served as an anchor back to her reality. Liara was acutely aware of the stench of vomit clogging her nostrils. She felt nauseous. Even Mack's gentle hold disturbed her. In a sudden display of strength, she wrestled free from his grasp and stood on trembling legs.

"I told you not to push yourself, kiddo," Mack said as he looked up at her with a sympathetic expression on his face.

Liara shook her head. "I didn't push myself." The voice did not sound as though it were her own. It was emotionless, cold. "Shepard is alive."

Mack stared at her incredulously. "Liara…you're only torturing yourself further-"

"Shepard is alive!" Liara hissed between clenched teeth.

Mack was left to scramble to his feet as she suddenly moved past him at a brisk walk. She ignored the chill that had descended over her body in the wake of cooling sweat and left the room. The New Zealander could only watch in disbelief as she returned to the tech that had done nothing but lie dormant. With single-minded determination, she reconnected the power cable. He could see her shivering slightly with the cold, but she was so far removed from caring that she did not notice. As the terminals slowly began to show signs of life, Mack went to retrieve one of his cardigans that he had left lying around. She did not even appear to notice as he placed the over-sized garment around her slender shoulders.

"Kiddo," he began uncertainly. "I'm not so sure this is good for you. What happened to make you think Shepard is alive?"

"I don't know where the hell she is, who has her, or exactly what they've done to her-" Liara felt the knot of fear twist painfully in her stomach. It took every scrap of her focus to keep from falling apart "-but I know unequivocally that she _is_ alive." The haptic interface finally awakened and Liara's fingers began a frenetic dance. "I will find her, and I can promise that whoever has her will live long enough only to profoundly regret their actions…and know exactly what it feels like to be flayed alive."

 


	10. Triple Word Score

**Melbourne, Australia**

_Three fucking days_. Ashley Williams was unable to keep the bitterness from her thoughts as she mulled over the pathetic amount of time that she had been permitted to spend with Miranda. It had been three amazing days, but it was a great deal less than the week's leave that she'd been promised.

There had also been far less fucking than she had planned.

With an impatient snort, Ashley eventually gave up standing at attention and folded her arms across her chest. When she glanced at the time on her omni-tool, she saw with some disgust that she had already been kept waiting for almost forty-five minutes. She ceased standing in front of the large desk in the room and crossed to the window. The floor to ceiling pane of glass offered her a bird's eye view on Alliance Defence Headquarters, Melbourne. While most of the functional tower block that she was currently in had already been completed, she could make out ant-like figures labouring an equally soulless building adjacent. Some attempts had been made at planting spindly trees in the plaza far below, but greenery was otherwise largely absent in this post-war world. Having grown up on a colony world covered in lush forests, Ashley missed the colour green desperately. She idly wondered whether this new world would be dominated by concrete, glass and steel. If that was the case, then she could not wait to return to the darkness of space and the reassuring familiarity of the _Normandy_.

Ash allowed her thoroughly bored mind to ruminate on the sort of life she wanted to share with Miranda. Beyond the initially disastrous conversation about kids and an acknowledgement that they had a future together, they had no plans. If they wanted to remain in the military, then they would eventually have to come clean about their relationship. Potentially halting any further career progression for either of them.

_I shake off one Williams curse_ , Ash mused sardonically _. Only to invent another one of my own_.

There was an attraction to leaving the Alliance behind altogether. The prospect of returning to Sirona, finding a house like the one she'd grown up in and raising a family seemed to be the ideal dream.

_And it's going to stay a dream_ , she told herself firmly. _Miranda would be bored out of her mind on Sirona and we’d tear each other to pieces_.

Almost instinctively, Ash activated her omni-tool. She scrolled through several files and selected the one she needed to see. Taken just the previous evening, the picture neatly captured the ebullient atmosphere she remembered. While Abby was primly trying to take a decent picture with her omni – beaming smile fixed firmly in place – the rest of the subjects were less cooperative. She and Lynn were engaged in some sort of tussle, neither looking at the camera. Miranda sat stiffly at her side, looking at the camera but obviously unsure whether to smile or grimace. With a grin forming, Ash reached up and mimed brushing her fingers against Miranda's flawless face.

"Making yourself at home?"

Utilising every iota of her carefully honed reactions, Ash deactivated her omni and whipped her body around to stand at attention. She had to make a conscious effort to maintain her non-expression when she found herself staring at Cristiane Alves.

"Yes, ma'am!" Ashley snapped off a reply before she allowed herself time to think. _Shit_. "I mean, no, ma'am." _Now would be a brilliant time to stop talking_. "With all due respect, I've been waiting in here for almost an hour."

Alves raised her eyebrows as she crossed behind the desk. Rather than fold her lithe body into the chair, she remained standing with her gaze fixed very squarely on Ashley. Without glancing downwards, she picked up a datapad that had been sitting on the table in front of her. She remained silent. The only sound in the room was the absent tapping of one of her nails against the side of the datapad.

"You were requested to report at 0900, Lieutenant-Commander. You turned up at 1000. I had another appointment scheduled for 1000, hence the wait. Were your orders not sufficiently clear enough?" Alves asked, her voice betraying little emotion.

Ashley could practically hear her own teeth grinding. "No, ma'am, crystal."

"Then would you care to explain?"

_What, explain that I was late due to a last minute fuck with my girlfriend? You'd love that wouldn't you?_ Ashley contemplated behind mask of her own. "I lost track of time saying goodbye to my family. It won't happen again."

The Captain's facial muscles finally moved, one corner of her mouth curled upwards into a small smile. "At ease, Williams. Before you burst a goddamn blood vessel."

Although she shifted her stance, Ash did not return the smile or allow herself to relax. With the datapad in hand, Alves moved back around the front of the desk and took up a casual position leaning against it. In doing so, she positioned herself awkwardly close to Ash. There was very little the marine could do in response without her discomfort showing. Instead she was forced to meet Alves' disconcertingly vibrant gaze. The Captain's dark eyes flashed in accompaniment to her smile.

"I trust your family are well?" she asked. The emotionless voice was no longer, replaced by a perfectly friendly tone that could have belonged to an old squadmate.

Taken off guard by the person nature of the question, it took Ash several moments before she could formulate a response. "They are, ma'am. Thank you."

Alves shook her head slowly. "Drop the 'ma'am', Williams. You say it with such disdain that you might as well just not bother."

As the Captain's smile broadened, Ashley wondered if she was being patronised. She remembered the feeling all too well from her years as an enlisted marine. With the Williams curse ensuring that she consistently received the least desirable postings, she was also guaranteed to end up with NCOs and officers who were far from the best the Alliance had to offer. Some were just stupid, others were openly sadistic and delighted in tormenting the lives of those serving under them. While Ash had expected to endure a certain amount of KP duty, lung-sucking hill slogs and dressing-downs by meat-headed buffoons during her time in boot, she had not expected it to continue when she earned her place in the corps. Ash resisted the urge to find solace in anger. Alves was certainly not a meat-headed buffoon, but nor was she someone that Ash was about to trust – regardless of the uniform she was wearing.

"Abby…Lynn, and Sarah. Am I correct?" Alves continued.

_Why would she bother with that kind of homework?_ Ash asked herself as she nodded. "Yes, ma-" She thankfully cut herself short. Nor was she eager to offer the other woman any further information on her sisters.

"You're lucky. There would be very few families who made it through the war intact," Alves mused in a matter-of-fact tone.

Ashley couldn't detect any hint of empathy in Alves’ voice. The woman was the Butcher of Torfan, it wouldn't be a stretch to imagine her simply incapable of it. While her recollection of most of the facts was hazy, Ash knew that the casualties on both sides had been catastrophic. The incident had also put the Alliance in a bad light – the story of the slaughter of Batarians following their surrender had run rampant across all the news agencies. While Ash had no love for Batarians, she did take issue with besmirching proud military tradition and honour.

Then again, Ash remembered Miranda's brief mention of Alves' being the sole survivor of a massacre on Mindoir. Such hatred would run deep.

"Boyfriend, Williams?"

"Ma'am?" Ashley spluttered, the question catching her completely off guard.

Alves' eyebrows lifted in response to Ash's silence. "Girlfriend?"

"Um…I hate to fit the stereotype, but I'm married to the corps,” Ashley replied, managing to collect her wits.

Alves looked vaguely disappointed before she thrust a datapad towards Ash. "Dossiers. On your new crew. Most of them will be arriving in Melbourne over the next few days. We've given you some seasoned hands to balance out those who are fresh out of boot. Your new XO in particular saw a great deal of action during the war, twice decorated for gallantry – the perfect man to join the crew of the _Normandy_."

_I'll be the judge of that_ , Ash thought as she gave the introductory material a cursory glance. A frown creased her brow as she noticed something. "It says here that the _Normandy_ isn't scheduled to depart until the 7th." The date was still over a week away. "With all due respect, my leave was cut short. I expected an urgent mission, not being called in to sit on my ass in port for a week."

If she was speaking out of turn, Ash didn't care. She met the Captain's stare with one of her own, pleased to notice that she was noticeably taller and that Alves was forced to look up at her.

"You won't be sitting on your ass as you so eloquently put it. You'll also find in there a schedule of media and PR appearances for yourself. It's the trade-off for being allowed back in the field I'm afraid." Alves did not sound particularly apologetic about it. The smile returned as she closed the already insignificant gap between them. "Interviews and recruitment drives – easy enough. Just be your charming self, Williams."

_My charming self? Obviously, she doesn't know me very well_. On top of her anger at being made into a show pony, Ash was confused. She had absolutely no desire to play games with the Butcher of Torfan – none whatsoever. A house on Sirona, kids and buttermilk pancakes were starting to look more appealing with each passing moment.

She was on the cusp of making a decisive step backwards when the office door flew inwards in a spectacular fashion. Her step became a stumble and the smug smile was wiped from Alves' face in a heartbeat when she saw the bulky figure of Fleet Admiral Kessler stride into the room. With consummate professionalism, Ash recovered quickly and snapped into yet another smart salute. In contrast, Alves merely leaned nonchalantly against the desk as though annoyed at the interruption.

"Williams." Kessler's single, curt word could hardly be called a greeting. "I need to speak with Captain Alves alone – immediately."

"Yes sir." Ashley couldn't make her reply quickly enough. While she wasn't overly astute at interpreting people, Kessler was doing a crap job of concealing his agitation. Combined with Alves' behaviour, Ash was grateful to escape the office. With the datapad tucked beneath her arm, she left without a glance behind her.

Although she made no move to linger and eavesdropping on the pair had not actually crossed her mind, Kessler's next words were spoken in haste as she closed the door behind her.

"We have a serious situation in Alberta!" His frustration and anger were obvious.

For some reason Ashley's curiosity was piqued. As much as she dared, she slowed the speed at which she closed the door.

"What the hell has happened?" Alves demanded. Her tone made Ash wonder exactly who was the superior officer out of the pair.

"She's escaped," Kessler replied.

"What? Fuck! I thought Dr Stone had everything under control?" Alves replied, unable to keep the surprise from her own voice.

The door clicked shut and the conversation was reduced to little more than urgent murmurs. For a few moments Ash paused and strained to make out what they were saying before her behaviour caused a passing officer to give her a wary glance. Berating herself for the blatantly unprofessional conduct, Ash moved away from the door at a brisk walk. She glanced down at the datapad in her hands and re-read the instructions as she walked. The overheard conversation was quickly forgotten as she unleashed a string of internal expletives at the thought of her time with Miranda being cut short for no good reason.

_Being recalled so I could go save lives?_ Ash felt like throwing the device against the wall. _That I could have accepted. Being recalled so I can smile and stick my tits out for the fucking cameras? They can all kiss my ass._

* * *

 

**Vancouver, Canada**

"No shit," Lynn Williams exclaimed in disbelief.

Both she and Abby watched as Miranda Lawson placed the small plastic tiles on the battered board with almost painstaking precision. When she had finished arranging each of her tiles, she straightened and stared at the pair with a hopeful expression on her face.

" _Chutzpah_?" Abby read the word out whilst slowly shaking her head. She and Lynn glanced at one another and both their shoulders slumped in tandem.

"Yes…it means shameless impudence," Miranda explained with a shrug. "Or extreme self-confidence…" Her voice trailed off in case the sisters thought she was making a thinly veiled reference to herself. She winced. "It _is_ a word."

Lynn whistled through her teeth before she hunched forward on the sofa and began toting up Miranda's score. "The "z" is on a double letter score…thirty-seven, and you've also managed to hit _two_ triple word scores-" Her face scrunched up while she mentally calculated "-that makes… _shit_...three hundred and thirty-three."

"And don't forget the additional fifty points for using all seven of her tiles at once," Abby pointed out helpfully.

"Three hundred and eighty-three?" Lynn announced as she gave Miranda a long, steady stare.

Miranda wondered if she had missed something. "I thought the object of the game was to score as many points as possible?"

"Three hundred and eighty-three? For one bloody word?" Lynn repeated, she threw her pen down and folded her arms around her chest. "Remind me never to play scrabble with you ever again, Miranda Lawson."

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" Miranda asked, looking across to Abby for help. The elder Williams had a broad grin on her face as she watched her scowling sister. _I knew this whole board-game business was a bad idea_ , she thought to herself, hastily searching for an excuse that would get her away from the game and out of the room.

"You just riled up the sore-loser, that's all." Abby laughed, patting Lynn on the shoulder in a placating manner. "Take it easy, sis. Admit it; Miranda is better at scrabble than you."

"She's never even played before!" Lynn protested.

Miranda washed her hands of the argument, wondering how something so insignificant could matter so much. Having completely missed out on the highs and lows of competing against siblings, she had no idea how she was supposed to behave. She briefly wondered if she ought not to have played the word to give Lynn a chance at winning. _Then I might have lost_. Given how repugnant that thought was, Miranda realised that she too was probably just as sore a loser as Lynn Williams.

"Let's just call it quits and concede that Miranda won?" Abby suggested tactfully. Clearly the diplomat of the family, she had an effortless calm about her that never failed to win people over.

"Loser makes dinner?" Lynn asked hopefully.

Abby paused before nodding reluctantly – she was the one losing by a large margin. Her sister grinned triumphantly and threw her arms outward and around the shoulders of the two women sitting on either side of her. She gave both a hearty squeeze – much to the amusement of one and the discomfort of the other. Even though it was only half a hug, Miranda was unused to anyone other than Ash hugging her. _And Shepard_ , she thought with an ache. While a part of her appreciated the gesture, she could not simply allow her body to relax against Lynn's. Liking Ash's sisters was one thing, _loving_ them was something else altogether. Miranda wasn't quite ready to go there.

She extracted herself from the hug under the pretext of reaching for her bottle of water. Once she had made her escape, Miranda busied herself tidying away the game pieces.

"You aren't up for a rematch?" Lynn asked hopefully.

"Actually, I was thinking of heading out for the afternoon," Miranda replied. As much as she liked the Williams sisters, being cooped up in the boxy little apartment was starting to grate on her. She was in desperate need of fresh air – even if it was just a walk amidst the rubble.

"I wish I could come," Lynn announced with a groan. "But I've a stack of papers that aren't going to grade themselves before school tomorrow." She flopped against her sister's shoulder and closed her eyes. "I can't face those little shits. I think I'm in the wrong line of work."

Miranda was honestly relieved. She didn't want company. That was the whole point of going out for a walk alone. _Or a run_ , she thought with sudden enthusiasm.

"Hun, you love those kids," Abby tousled Lynn's hair before she turned to Miranda. "Stick to the main thoroughfares, it can get a bit rough out there sometimes."

Miranda raised her eyebrows. If she was being honest with herself, the thought of cracking the skulls of a couple of miscreants appealed immensely. Following a promise to be careful that at least sounded sincere, she gratefully escaped out onto the streets of Vancouver. She didn't bother with a warm up before breaking into a brisk jog, relieved to find that her muscles had not grown overly stale following a few days of inactivity.

_Not quite inactivity_ , Miranda mused as her body settled into a smooth rhythm. Sex with Ash was often just as much of a workout as going for a run or hitting the gym.

A day had passed and she'd heard nothing from Ash. There was the distinct possibility that the _Normandy_ had shipped out already. Although she knew full well that Ash was big enough to take care of herself, Miranda couldn't help but feel the knot of worry that dwelled at the back of her mind attempt to push its way forward. To combat this she pushed her body a little harder. Her legs pumped faster to create a pace that was at the limit of what she could maintain. With her breath coming in loud, controlled bursts, she succeeded in pushing most thoughts from her mind. It became easier to ignore the annoying anxiety and find a measure of peace.

Prior to becoming involved with Ashley Williams, Miranda had always found it effortless to slip into a business-like persona that subsumed everything else. Personal relationships and her own emotions took a back seat to her work. They had seemed trivial when measured against the goal she set for herself – perfection. However even before she met Ash, that life had started to come apart at the seams thanks to another marine. Commander bloody Shepard – grade A self-righteous hero and first-class pain in the arse.

Almost an hour later Miranda had turned to head back to the apartment when she caught sight of someone across the street. She did a double take when she recognised a figure with an all too familiar posture. The woman was walking in the opposite direction and Miranda was forced to turn in order to watch her. She was dressed in an Alliance uniform. Miranda's lips parted in surprise. There was no mistaking the way the woman carried herself, it was almost identical to that of her daughter.

Without knowing entirely what was driving her, Miranda crossed the road and jogged to catch up. "Ma'am? Rear Admiral Shepard?" It was only after she opened her mouth that she realised she had no idea what the hell she was doing.

Miranda had only met Shepard's mother once - at her daughter's funeral. From the scant information Shepard had offered, Miranda expected to find a machine as opposed to a mother. However, she distinctly remembered Hannah being surprisingly warm in her interactions with the Normandy crew – far warmer than Shepard had let her to expect. Having never known a mother of her own, Miranda felt woefully ill-equipped to analyse the Rear Admirals actions from anything other than a clinical perspective. She had seemed professional, exceptionally intelligent and the very model of an Alliance officer.

When Hannah Shepard turned to face her, it was like a slap in the face. The passage of time made the resemblance between mother and daughter shatteringly painful. Miranda watched the play of emotions across the other woman's face – shifting from uncertainly to astonishment in a matter of seconds. The open reactions were then gone, replaced by a mask that Miranda could not see through. Before their proximity became awkward, Miranda brought her hand up in a salute.

"Ma'am, you may not remember me. I'm-"

"I know exactly who you are," Hannah interrupted swiftly. "What can I do for you, Second-Lieutenant Lawson?"

Miranda was well used to hostility, but she had not expected it to come from Shepard's mother. She was also taken aback that the older woman was aware of the exact progression of her military career – which meant that she had to have been keeping tabs on her. Schooling her own emotions, she squared her shoulders before replying, "I'm sorry, ma'am. My only intent was to-"

"Chat?" Hannah arched one of her immaculately formed eyebrows.

_I don't chat!_ Miranda thought indignantly. The uncertainty of her purpose was blatantly laid bare as she struggled to force anything remotely intelligent past her lips. The way Hannah Shepard stared at her so disdainfully reminded her eerily of the tactics employed by her own father. Miranda was reminded of the way he managed to make her feel like an incompetent failure without so much as opening his mouth. When the Rear Admiral stepped forward into her space, Miranda was driven onto her back foot.

"No, ma'am," Miranda said with a shake of her head.

"Let me make one thing very clear, Lawson," Hannah said coldly. "If it were up to me, I wouldn't let you near a goddamn Alliance uniform. This institution isn't so desperate that it needs to call on individuals like you to defend humanity. When it comes to that, then we are truly lost."

Miranda stiffened. The words didn't wash over her as effortlessly as she would have hoped. Regardless of her past affiliations, her actions throughout the months and years leading up to the final defeat of the Reapers had been nothing but altruistic. Aside from her pursuit of Ashley, Miranda had done nothing for herself. It had not escaped her mind that she could have found a quiet corner of the galaxy in which to hide, yet she had risked her life to help Shepard. If she hadn't earlier, she now fervently regretted crossing the road.

"Evan didn't share the same sentiment," Miranda replied diplomatically. She delivered Shepard's name like a slap in the face.

An angry response flickered across Hannah's face. She pressed forward again, but Miranda did not move a second time. "If you respect my daughter's memory then you'll walk away from your commission. Surely desertion won't mean anything to you, _Miss_ Lawson." Hannah pressed a hand to Miranda's chest and looked her squarely in the eye, stripping Miranda to the bone with the intensity of her gaze. "Walk away – from the Alliance, from Earth...from _everything_."

Miranda couldn't stop the memories of Ash flooding her senses. _There's no way in hell she knows_ , she thought, schooling her face into an unresponsive mask. However even as she struggled with her anxiety, she noticed a subtle change in the pressure against her chest. While it increased, it was not enough to force her to take a step backward.

"With all due respect, ma'am-" Miranda's gaze hardened "-I am not walking away from my commission."

Hannah Shepard shook her head. "It seems as if I have over-estimated your intelligence, Lawson. If you had any respect for my daughter at all then you will consider what I have said. The Alliance isn't the place for you...and Evangeline would have agreed with me." Hannah removed her hand and began backing away. Her lips curved upwards into a cold smile. "Have a nice day."

"Ma'am," Miranda replied in a tight voice.

It wasn't until the Rear Admiral had turned her back and started walking away from her that Miranda realised she was chilled to the bone. The sweat that she had worked up while running had cooled on her skin. She wasted no time in returning to her stride to both restore some warmth to her body and try and relieve some of the tension that griped her body.

Even as she ran she could not escape the feeling of Hannah Shepard's fingers burning into her chest.

* * *

 

**London, Earth**

David Codrington did not know whether to laugh or cry at the almost comical way his teeth chattered against the glass he was trying to drink out of. He finally managed to drain it to the dregs. He misjudged the edge of the table when he went to place the glass down. It slipped and fell. Although David knew it was coming, his body jerked in shock when the glass smashed against the pre-fab's bare metal flooring.

_Get a grip, Dave_. As he ran a shaking hand through his thinning hair he rose to his feet. He had no purpose for standing other than to start pacing the depressingly tiny length of his living space. From the kitchen table to the edge of his bed was five steps. Back was ten. To the bed again was fifteen. David made it to fifty before he gave up and sat down heavily on the bed.

He half-heartedly considered ignoring the curfew and heading out for a walk. He could blag his way through any check points with a lie about an emergency at one of the pumping stations. Perhaps head for one of the underground bars he had frequented a handful of times with Hardy. Anything would be better than sitting alone and waiting.

David did not know precisely what he had expected in the wake of his message to various news agencies, but he had expected _something_. Whether it was a simultaneous frenzy of reporting or simply a throwaway story on the late-night bulletin, he had expected someone out there to give a damn that Shepard was alive. Even if none of the outlets had trusted the tip enough to run the story, surely someone would have hounded him for further information. News reporters were supposed to be like dogs with a bone. The Shepard story would have undoubtedly been the biggest to break since the end of the war.

Instead there had been nothing, and David had existed in a sort of limbo. He'd called in sick for work even though there was no such thing as sick pay in a post-war environment. On an inexplicable whim he'd packed everything he could into two duffels and moved out of what had been a reasonably comfortable, brand new apartment. For some reason David could not shake the fact that he was being watched with every move he made. His paranoia had developed to the point where it felt as though he was being _hunted_. He knew he was supposed to have died in the blast that killed Hardy. The fact that he was still alive he simply put down to the fact that they dismissed him as a nobody who posed little threat. Other than send poorly worded messages, what could he do? David supposed he could stand on a street corner proclaiming that Shepard was alive. He snorted at the obvious religious connotation this brought to mind. Everyone would think he was insane.

_I just need a decent night's sleep_ , he told himself as he flopped backward onto the bed. _Clear my head, get back to work and face the music. I'll wake up and it'll be like I never found her in that damn tunnel._

Her. Shepard. She haunted what little sleep he did manage to have. Her blue eyes implored him to do something, anything, to help her. David felt sick to the stomach when he realised that he was probably the only person outside of the Alliance who knew that Shepard was alive. Of all the potential people who could have found her, she'd been unlucky enough to be found by the civil engineer with thinning hair, a paunch and virtually no backbone of which to speak. _Sorry, Commander, you definitely lucked out in being found by this slob_.

A sudden knock on the door instantly turned his blood cold. David had told no one where he was going and he had paid a month's rent up front. He highly doubted that one of his neighbours wanted to borrow a pint of milk. Cursing himself for his less than stealthy physique, David manoeuvred off the bed amidst several loud creaks. He felt a palpable terror grip his entire body as he opened the cupboard beside the bed and reached inside. The pistol he'd picked up over the black market sat uncomfortably in his palm. Although he'd had to fire a weapon in anger during the war, the only targets he'd had were Reapers. Opening fire on another person? That was a different prospect altogether.

"Dave?"

The voice was vaguely familiar. David advanced slowly toward the door when a second, harsher knock made him jump again. Although he had maintained an excellent working relationship with his crew, Hardy was the only one he could have called a friend. Outside of work, there was no one. His heart was pounding like a freight train and every fibre of his being screamed at him not to open the door.

"Hey, Dave? It's Jake – you in there, mate?"

_Jake?_ David remembered the new kid from his crew. Why the hell would he be here? A nagging feeling crept into the back of his mind about the day Hardy died. He forced himself to ignore the banging on the door and concentrate on his scattered memories. Jake had been in the tunnel that day. He'd offered to go topside and fetch the forgotten datapad containing all his calculations. Had David taken Jake up on his offer, he'd had been at the tunnel face when it collapsed. He froze.

When someone began hacking into the door lock, David knew he had to find an alternate exit. There was just one, a window that overlooked the alleyway below. Tucking the pistol into the back of his jeans, David tried to jerk the window open. He'd never tried before and the runners were thoroughly jammed up. With a grunt of effort, he finally managed to open a gap that may have been able to fit his hefty frame. However, when he began climbing out he was nerve-rackingly reminded of the fact that pre-fabs were designed to be stacked. Although his was only the third in the stack, the ground still seemed a hell of a long way away. He practically thrust his body out of the narrow gap, cursing when the carelessly wedged pistol was driven out of the back of his jeans and sent crashing to the ground below. David was anxiously clinging by his hands when the door opened and he saw Jake stride into the room. The eager-faced young kid was gone, replaced by a killer in dark leather. His own pistol was already raised. It was the shots aimed at his head which drove David to let go. He let out a sharp cry as he fell - abruptly cut off when he slammed into a pile of rubbish and had the wind driven from his lungs. He was still picking himself out of the slimy morass when he heard more than one pair of boots thudding on the makeshift staircase on the other side of the stack.

_Shit, how many guys did they send?_ David rolled to his feet, wondering how the hell someone like him warranted more than one hitman. He'd already been only moments from opening his door and inviting Jake to shoot him. A hasty search for the fallen pistol turned up nothing other than rotting refuse. Empty handed, David urged his heavy frame into something resembling a sprint. A chill wind whipped through his light t-shirt as he ran, although he was thankful at least that he was still wearing his boots. As to a plan, he had nothing other than a vague desire to keep living – even then he wasn't sure why he bothered.

As he navigated his way blindly through the twists and turns of what could only be referred to as a slum, David wondered how long it would take the Alliance patrols to notice the disturbance. He did briefly consider seeking them out, until he wondered whether that would be tantamount to signing his own death warrant. As his lungs began to burn, concern for his own safety was banished behind the thought that he had left the tattered picture of his family propped up against his bedside lamp. Having lost the gun, he had nothing other than the scant clothes on his back and a sorely depleted credit chit in his back pocket.

David tried to cloak himself in darkness, but his clumsy movements were enough to draw the attention of even the worst assassin. He could sense his pursuers closing in on him, but he had no idea exactly where they were. Somewhere in the vicinity a short, sharp scream rent the air. It was followed only moments later by the muffled sounds of footsteps, then another cry and a sickening thud that David speculated might have been the sound of a body hitting the ground from height. His thoughts were interrupted as something whizzed past his ear and pinged off metal. Someone was shooting at him. When he cast a terrified glance over his shoulder, he saw at least three figures in pursuit.

He rounded yet another corner, having long since lost all track of where he was running in the unfamiliar neighbourhood. His heart sank when he found himself confronted by three sheer walls, all of which were too high to climb. _Turn around Dave_ , he urged himself. _You're not going to let these bastards shoot you in the back_. Although he still heard the footsteps, they were punctuated by several urgent exclamations in voices that sounded as terrified as he felt. A blue light suddenly lit the alleyway, illuminating everything for several seconds before it slammed into one of his pursuers. David watched, transfixed, as the figure was thrown savagely against a nearby wall. The impact brought with it a jarring crack and whoever it was did not move once they hit the ground.

Everything that followed happened within the space of less than a minute. As David tucked himself into as small a target as possible in one corner, he watched and listened to the violent struggle. For a split second he would see a pale human face, eyes wide with terror before they were either picked up and thrown or silenced by more intimate means. There was one shadow moving amongst them that he could not make out. At times it appeared to be lit with the unmistakable aura of biotic energy but the hood the figure wore swallowed all light. David eventually recognised the slender figure of Jake - more calculating than the rest, he advanced on David even as his companions died around him. At the moment that David saw the muzzle flash in front of him, the shadowed figure slammed into the young man. There was no struggle, just a sharp crack as his head was twisted savagely to one side. His limp body dropped to the ground like an empty sack.

With his legs trembling violently beneath him, David forced himself to stand up. Although this individual had killed the men pursuing him, whoever it was could very well simply be tidying up loose ends. There was very little light in the alleyway, he could see nothing other than a lithe figure clad in a hooded cloak. The cowl was pulled down low and David thought there was also a mask covering the face.

"David Codrington?"

The voice was like steel-edged velvet. Unmistakably feminine, the sound startled him speechless.

"Are you David Codrington?" She repeated, advancing several more steps.

"Y-yeah…I am," he croaked. Without warning, she lifted her arm and levelled a wicked looking pistol in his direction. David thrust both his hands into the air. He was too terrified to meet his fate with more dignity. "W-who are-"

"You made the claim that Commander Shepard is still alive," she interrupted harshly. "Why?"

David frowned in confusion. "I saw her…spoke to her…before the Alliance took her away."

"Do you have any proof?" she demanded. "Speak! Or you will end up like the others."

He shook his head hopelessly. There was no proof other than a memory and a plethora of nightmares. "She said something…a name!" he blurted out desperately. "It sounded like Li…Liara something. I think it sounded alien…Tee Sonny." David's brow furrows deepened as he struggled to remember the exact sounds that Shepard had whispered. "Liara…T'Soni," he finished hopefully.

Several seconds passed during which David saw a noticeable shift in her posture. He thought that perhaps she seemed less threatening as she straightened her body out of her fighting stance. Finally, she slowly lowered the weapon. Although he was no longer facing down the barrel of a pistol, David could not bring himself to relax, especially not when she stepped forward into the weak light. Her entire body was shrouded from head to toe in black combat leathers. Whoever she was, she was suitably terrifying.

"You believe me?" David asked in disbelief. The first threads of hope started to appear. He felt brave enough to risk lowering his hands. "Why?"

Her response was to holster her pistol. With a fluid movement, one hand reached to peel back her cowl while the other removed the mask from her face. David's jaw dropped when he saw her head crests, pale blue skin and facial markings. _Asari!_ For all her breath-taking beauty, her cold blue gaze felt like it was stripping him bare.

"Because I am Liara T'Soni."

 


	11. A Naked Frailty

**Location Unknown**

_"Shepard!"_

There was an unrestrained panic as Shepard struggled against the unseen forces that mercilessly wrenched her body. She struggled to breathe, but she took in more water than air. Her lungs burned as though on fire. Something rose up out of the darkness and slammed into her head – subduing her almost instantly. Despite the intense pain that radiated across her skull, she drifted in a vague sort of peace as she accepted the situation.

Everything was undoubtedly all fucked up.

Survival, even if she could bring herself to care about living, was unlikely. Somewhere, at the back of her mind, she knew that she was supposed to have a stupid mantra for such situations.

_The Commander's Mantra._ Well that much was wrong already. She was a Commander of nothing, not even her own life. There was no ship, no crew, not even a damn uniform.

_Just breathe._ Even that was easier said than done. _I can't fucking breathe!_

_Maintain control_. Control of what? As she let her body go completely limp, it was dragged along in a relentless current. She'd already fought and raged to no avail, what good would it do to prolong her suffering? She closed her eyes. There was nothing to see in the darkness anyway.

_"By the Goddess, Evan, please get up!"_

Her eyes suddenly snapped open. Pain and awareness came flooding back. Was there someone with her? Her eyes searched uselessly in the darkness. There was no one – just the unrelenting cold and inky blackness waiting to swallow her whole.

_"We need to move!"_

Even if she wanted to, Shepard didn't know which way was up. _"I can't, you need to go without-"_

This was where it would finally end. Here. Alone. In the dark.

_"Like hell I will! You are not doing this to me. Not when I need you so desperately. Now on your feet soldier or by the Goddess I will kick the fucking crap out of you!"_

A part of her tried to comply, but her feet were merely some appendage below her, or were they above her? She absently thrashed them about for a few moments but succeeded only in striking her shin against the same unyielding surface that had collided with her head. It hurt like hell, but the pain meant that she was still alive. She managed to discern which way was up. When she kicked out again, the invisible forces weakened and she moved upward, bursting through the surface a spluttering, thrashing fit of movement. The darkness was still there, but she could finally gasp in glorious air.

Eventually, Shepard felt something undeniably solid beneath her feet – or at least she hoped it was solid. Using her fingernails like claws, she dragged herself forward, up and out of the desperate clutches of the water. Not caring where she was, she continued until the entirety of her sodden form was out of the water. Then she gratefully collapsed onto her back and lay sucking in grateful gasps of air. Each breath burned, but it was still sweet.

Shepard was dimly aware of pain arcing across different parts of her body, or possibly all of it, but nothing was more pressing than the need to breathe and orientate herself. Even as the breaths came more easily, the darkness retreated only enough for her to see her pale hand when she waved it in front of her face. When she rolled her head to one side, she could see nothing other than an eerie pale light dancing on top of the water.

Time passed. Shepard tucked her body into a tight ball to find some measure of warmth. She knew that the Alliance would be looking for her with a vengeance – Stone in particular. The blonde's smiling face cut across the images flashing behind her eyes, accompanied by Heller's impassioned plea not to trust her. While Shepard had never trusted the woman completely, she had allowed herself to hope.

Despite the cold clawing at what remained of her sanity, Shepard knew that Stone had not lied about her identity. While her memory of that night was dimmed by the passage of time, she distinctly remembered meeting the woman in a Citadel nightclub. She remembered their heated exchange in a dark corner, or at least the frightening hunger she had felt whilst devouring the blonde. It played out like so many other encounters throughout her life. The difference being that none of those other one night stands had re-emerged with a burning desire to hold her captive, torture her and ultimately end her life.

Had she hurt Naomi? The harder she searched her memories, the deeper the images retreated. Eventually she was left with only a dull haze of pain as that night became clouded by images of all the nights before and after. She gave up altogether and instead tried to sit up. Nothing would cooperate properly. All her limbs were numbed by cold save for her artificial hand – that felt as though it was burning. When Shepard pressed the fingertips to her clammy cheek, they almost seared the skin.

She managed an awkward, slithering crawl over the slimy rocks beneath her. Her cracked fingertips dragged against the hard surface. Although she was exhausted, Shepard did not stop moving until she felt a dry surface beneath her. While her sodden clothing created a damp pool around her, she collapsed, breathing heavily from the exertion.

Sleep tugged at the edges of her fragile consciousness, but Shepard fought to remain awake. With the natural fingers of her right hand she probed experimentally at the head wound she'd sustained while underwater. Although it was tender to the touch, it wasn’t bleeding profusely. The gunshot wound to her shoulder was another matter altogether. She had sincere intentions of trying to bind it with a length from her t-shirt, but the desire to slip into unconsciousness was proving too strong.

"You need to stay awake, Evan."

Shepard knew she was delirious when she heard Liara's voice as clearly as though the asari was with her in the dank cave. She knew and she didn't care. For a few blissful moments, it felt as though Liara was there and that was all the mattered.

"T-tired.” Her eyelids slowly drooped.

"You have always been stubborn. Why do you choose now to start simply accepting things as they are?" Liara demanded. "Open your eyes."

"No," Shepard wheezed through lips that would barely move.

"Open your eyes!"

A split second after she felt the tangible warmth of Liara's breath flow over the skin of her face, Shepard forced her eyes open. Her heart almost stopped when she came face to face with the asari. Liara was leaning over her, propped up with a hand on either side of her body.

Shepard's head lolled from side to side in the negative. "You're not here.”

Liara was wearing the science uniform she had worn during her days on the _Normandy_ SR-1. And she was bone dry.

"Does it matter?" Liara asked softly. She lifted a hand as if to touch Shepard's cheek, but cruelly left it hovering just out of reach. "As long as you don't give up and let yourself die down here."

"I might," Shepard replied abruptly. "Gotta run out of lives sooner or later."

Her hand flailed upwards, reaching for Liara. Her lover gracefully moved backwards to crouch on her haunches, avoiding her touch by scant inches. Angry at being denied, Shepard dragged her own body upwards. Her movements were much less graceful and accompanied by a flurry of expletives.

"Fuck!" she hissed as she propped herself up against the sheer rock face at her back. "You're pissing me off, T'Soni."

"Good," Liara said in a terse voice. "Get angry. It will help you stay alive."

Shepard snorted. "You don't need to lecture me about being angry, Li. I've been fucking angry since I woke up. Heller, Stone, the whole damn Alliance…Hannah fucking Shepard." _Not Mum…never again. She lost the right to that title the day she threw her lot in with the Alliance_. "Now I'm sitting in a goddamn cave talking to myself…probably surrounded by soldiers with guns and itchy trigger fingers. Not to mention a psychopathic bitch with a hard on for me."

She tried to keep her gaze focused on the image of her lover, but in staring directly at the spot where Liara sat, she found only darkness. Instead, Liara's form remained elusive, hovering just at the edge of her vision. As she sat, still breathing heavily, Shepard absently patted at the pockets of her coat. She already knew she'd lost both her pistol and the omni-tool that Heller had provided for her. There was something bulky nestled inside one pocket but her numb fingers wouldn't work on the zip.

"Be careful with Dr Stone, Evan," Liara cautioned her. "You undoubtedly have history. I would not write it off as insignificant."

A chill ran down Shepard's spine as she gave up trying to make her right-hand work and used the left instead. She could feel the zip beneath her fingertips, but it felt wrong.

"Yes we do have history. I fucked her…or at least I think I did." The zip worked easily and Shepard sighed as she remembered the individual she had been before she met Liara. "But I was lost back then. It meant nothing to me…maybe she expected more?"

She eventually withdrew a small package from the pocket. Although she could make out little in the darkness, the red cross on the front was distinctive enough. Shepard laughed.

"I fail to see what is funny about your situation." Liara was not as amused.

"Lighten up, baby." A dangerously giddy feeling overtook her body. When she rummaged into other pockets she came up with another pack containing a small survival kit with ration bars, a survival blanket and several glo-sticks. "We are definitely naming our first-born Bryan.”

When the fluorescent orange glo created a small halo of light around her body, it was enough to make some of her weariness retreat along with the darkness. The worry that the light might be spotted by her pursuers nagged at the back of her mind, but it was barely bright enough to extend as far as the water.

"We most certainly are not," the asari fired back immediately. "I am not naming my daughter _Bryan T'Soni_!"

Shepard chuckled as she drew the medigel out of the kit. "Get angry, baby. It's so bloody amusing it might help me stay alive." She thought she saw Liara's beautiful features twist into a scowl out of the corner of her eye. Her shoulder wound protested violently when she started stripping off her coat, to the point where she had to stifle a whimper. Shepard drew in a deep breath. "And I have a feeling that patching this up is going to hurt like hell."

* * *

 

**Unmarked Transport Vessel, Mid-Flight**

Despite the hunger gnawing at his stomach, David could not bring himself to pick up the sandwich that lay on the seat beside him. Instead he remained staring out of the transport's tiny window. He could see absolutely nothing other than a deep blackness that seemed to claw at the sides of their vehicle. His new companions had left him alone for the better part of an hour. Liara T'Soni had murmured something about him needing sleep, but the thought of closing his eyes was too difficult to contemplate. It was thoroughly ridiculous, but he was certain that he would wake up to discover that everything that had happened to him over the past few hours had been some sort of dream.

David barely remembered any specific details of recent events other than an all-encompassing blur. The sheer terror of his desperate flight from his apartment had been replaced by a dull panic that clung to every thought and action. He'd blindly followed the asari, not caring whether she was leading him to safety, but because there was nothing else he could do. Less than twenty minutes after she'd saved his life, David had found himself bundled aboard a non-descript transport bound for the other side of the Atlantic. He had vague memories of being introduced to another human, but he could not remember the man's name. The only image that stood out starkly in his mind was the terrible visage of Liara T'Soni. Her cold blue eyes continued to strip him bare, even as he sat by himself in one of the transport's small cabins. Who she was exactly or why her name had been the only words to leave Shepard's lips had yet to be explained.

When the door on the cabin slid open, David's frayed nerves led to his entire body jerking instinctively with fright. He made no attempt to look nonchalant or even composed as he looked toward the door. Liara's companion delivered what was no doubt supposed to be a reassuring smile, but David remained unconvinced as he sat up a little straighter in his seat.

He cast his gaze toward David's untouched sandwich and shook his head. "You sure you don't want that?"

Before David even managed to shake his head, the slender stranger moved to claim it. He wasted no time in peeling off the wrapper and rescuing one half. When he bit into the bread and began to chew, a smile of pleasure crossed his face. "Bread's a bit stale but it's still damn good," he announced between mouthfuls. He held up the other half. "You sure?"

"Go on then, mate," David replied, more to shut the guy up than out of any actual desire to eat the bloody sandwich. However, when he automatically took a bite, his mouth salivated around the simple taste. He was famished and it was undeniably good.

The two men sat in companionable silence for several minutes as they polished off both the first sandwich and a second, slightly squashed one that was produced from a coat pocket. David had dozens of questions he wanted to ask, but foremost on his mind was the mysterious asari who had saved his life.

He studied the older man sitting on the seat opposite. While he appeared to be a good two decades older than David himself, he moved with the calculated precision of a trained soldier. There was absolutely no doubt in David's mind that the stranger could close the gap between the two of them and kill or incapacitate him in a matter of seconds.

"Thanks," David finally found his voice. "Um, Li...Miss T'Soni-" _Miss T'Soni? Was that even how asari referred to themselves?_ Having had never spoken to one before today, David had absolutely no idea. All he knew was that it felt wrong to refer to such an individual as simply _Liara_. "-told me your name but..."

His voice trailed off as he again struggled with the reality of everything that had happened to him in such a short space of time.

"Take it easy," his companion replied in a surprisingly compassionate voice. "It's not every day that you find out that the people that you rely on to protect you are trying to kill you. Name's Mack – it's actually Pericles Macklin, but you'll find yourself walking if you try to use it."

David shook his head quickly. "It honestly didn't cross my mind."

Mack grinned. "And I wouldn't go calling her _Miss_ T'Soni if I were you. It's Dr T'Soni-"

_Dr T'Soni?_ David thought, raising his eyebrows in surprise _. Doctor of what? Kicking people's arses?_

"-or just Liara," finished Mack. He recognised the expression on the other man's face and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know. She can be kind of intimidating. You should be thankful you just had a gun pointed in your direction; the first time we met she tried to strangle me. If I only ever give you one piece of advice, it would be 'don't piss off Liara T'Soni.' Turns out that's exactly what the Alliance did when they kept Shepard from the world...and her."

"How did she know?" David asked. "The story, it didn't run on any of the news outlets."

"Let's just say that Liara and Commander Shepard share a bond. Once she knew that Shepard was alive, she didn't stop until she uncovered the information she was looking for. Specifically your story – buried by the Alliance," Mack explained. "Relentless doesn't even begin to describe her approach."

"Terrifying." David offered a description of his own.

Mack shrugged. "She's just a kid who would do anything for the person she loves."

David was in the midst of a realisation when the cabin door opened and the subject of their conversation stood just beyond the threshold. While Mack grinned, he found himself shrinking back into the seat a little further. Despite Mack's attempt to make her seem less harsh, he was uneasy at the thought of sharing a confined space with her.

"How far out are we?" Mack asked as he rose to his feet and stretched his lanky limbs.

"About an hour," Liara replied. She sounded tired. "Can I trouble you to check on our gear? I would appreciate some time alone with Mr Codrington."

"Yeah, no worries, kid," Mack nodded. As he moved by her he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Go easy on the guy will ya? He's under the impression that you're some sort of she-demon who might be thinking about killing him."

"Mack," Liara growled low in her throat while her companion chuckled at his own joke.

In most other circumstances, David would have appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood. As it was, Mack only succeeded in making his heart race a little faster. He discreetly wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs as Liara took Mack's seat opposite him. Mack closed the door behind him and David was left alone in the cabin with the asari. As she folded herself down into a graceful sit, David found it difficult to look directly at her. When she did not begin speaking straight away, he risked a quick glance. She had taken up his distraction of gazing out of the window. Feeling slightly bolder, David did not look away. It took him only a matter of moments to realise that he no longer felt the same fear he had earlier in her presence. If anything, he felt an intense sympathy for her. Gone was the awesome warrior he'd encountered in the alley. Instead, with her shoulders sagging and dark circles beneath her eyes, she looked exhausted and impossibly young.

" _She's just a kid who would do anything for the person she loves."_ Mack's words repeated in his head and he remembered the quiet desperation in Shepard's voice when she whispered Liara's name to him. Both his fists clenched as an outlet for the sudden anger that surged through his body – anger directed at the organisation that had tried to kill him, and had kept Shepard from those who loved her.

"What can I do for you, Dr T'Soni?" When David found his voice, he spoke emphatically. He realised that he would do anything for her.

Liara finally met his gaze. When she recognised the sincerity there, she shifted forward slightly with an almost hopeful expression in her eyes. "Mr Codrington-"

"David. You saved my life, please call me David."

"David. I believe that I would not be wrong in saying that you have had little experience with asari?" He very readily nodded in agreement. "What I am about to ask you may make very little sense, it may seem strange, but I assure you that I would not be asking this of you unless it were very important." A small sigh escaped her lips as she paused before clarifying. "Important to me...I need to look into your memories, to see what you claim you saw when you found her. I understand if you want to refuse, I will not compel-"

"Yes," David interrupted without waiting for a further explanation. "Whatever it is, I'll do it."

"Asari use a technique called a meld," she explained gently. "Often other species misinterpret its use as purely sexual, but I assure you in this instance I am only seeking to share thoughts. I must warn you though, it can be...intrusive. I want you to show me your memories of finding Shepard, nothing more."

Although he was still sweating profusely, David held out his palms to indicate that he was ready. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing," Liara said in a quiet, gentle voice.

She closed her own eyes and he wondered if he should follow suit. Only moments later, she opened them again. He could not stifle the gasp that emerged when the sapphire blue he had expected was swallowed by polished obsidian so black that it felt as though it was swallowing his own gaze. A surprised cry died on his lips when the cabin around him disappeared and was replaced by the damp familiarity of a tunnel similar to the one he'd been standing in on the day his life had been turned upside down. However as soon as David looked up and saw the barrier hanging in front of him, he knew it was the same one.

* * *

 

_The smell of damp earth met her nostrils. Although the sides of the tunnel were pressing in from almost every direction, it was a comforting, familiar environment. The only element that was out of place was the spherical anomaly blocking the tunnel's path. When she turned, Liara found that a part of the machinery behind her had been seared clean off where it had come into contact with the barrier. Her heart was thudding in her chest when she turned back to face the blue light._

_"Christ! Don't touch it!" She knew the man's name was Hardy._

_"Didn't cross my mind." The words from her lips were not her own, they were David's. Her own thoughts were nowhere near as calm and collected. "Hardy, start telling the guys to clear the hell out of here…it looks like some sort of weapon-"_

_Her command was abruptly cut short when the barrier hanging in front of her died. When the limp body tumbled out, Liara gasped inwardly. Unlike David, she needed no time to identify the woman she scooped into her arms._

_"Fuck," David whispered. "What the fuck is this?"_

_Liara could feel the fear and confusion that had radiated throughout David's body as he held Shepard in his arms. Her own reaction was far different – born of an intimate familiarity with the woman and almost everything about her. As she hungrily tried to absorb as many details as she could, she realised that the body she was holding was markedly different from the one she remembered. As David reached as to brush a length of dark hair away from Shepard's eyes, Liara was struck by the immediate realisation that her scars were gone. She sobbed within her mind as she studied her lover's ashen face and body, almost completely devoid of colour. Shepard's body had wasted to that of a gaunt skeleton. Liara remembered that her left hand and forearm had been seared clean off in the push for the Crucible, but when she looked she found an unnaturally pale growth that had formed in the shape of her missing limb. When she touched it, she found it to be icy cold._

_"Bloody 'ell, Dave, the lass is starkers." Liara had forgotten that someone else was in the tunnel with David._

_"I think the real question is what the hell is she doing in my tunnel?" David's voice replied._

_Liara was screaming at them to cover Shepard's body with something, anything. Even though she was clearly breathing, her lover was ice cold – as though dead. Hardy hunkered down beside David and he reached for the dog tags that had inexplicably remained intact around her neck. The asari already knew what Hardy would find when he scratched the grime from the metal._

_"Jesus H. Christ! It's Commander bleedin' Shepard."_

_Although the revelation meant nothing to her, Liara sobbed inwardly when Hardy said her name. She knew that she could do nothing to change David's memories, but she willed him to draw Shepard hard against his chest, to hold her exactly as she wished to in that moment._

_"Christ!" Hardy was still talking. "She's supposed to be dead ain't she, Dave? Never saw it meself, but they say the Crucible went up like the flamin' Fifth of November."_

_It did, Liara thought. I was watching it. There should have been no way that anyone could have survived such a blast. And yet..._

_"Obviously not," David had replied. When Shepard's eyelids fluttered open, Liara found herself gazing into the familiar pale blue depths. The recognition that she craved was nowhere to be found. Of course it would not be there. Shepard was staring up at a stranger. "Commander? Commander Shepard?"_

_When Shepard's lips started to jerk up and down as she tried to speak, Liara gasped when a thin whisper emerged. David lowered his ear closer to her mouth in an effort to hear what she was saying in a desperate voice. "Li…ara…T-T'Soni. Li-"_

_I am here, Evan. Goddess! I am here._

_Shepard did not response to Liara's unspoken words, instead her eyes suddenly rolled back into her head as her body started to spasm uncontrollably. A series of awful gasping sounds escaped her mouth as she apparently struggled to draw a breath._

_"Shit! What the 'ell do we do?" Hardy was panicking._

_"Remain where you are, Mr Hardy." A stranger was suddenly present. Liara knew that David recognised him, but she also shared his surprise at the sudden intrusion. "This is Captain Prowse of the four-oh-second, I've got a situation at my coordinates. Send immediate back-up and medical evac…and I mean fucking immediate!"_

_When David gave up his hold on Shepard, Liara fought against the path of the memory as it played out. With the weight of Shepard's body gone from her arms she felt bereft. A surge of hate grew in the pit of her stomach as David stared at the Alliance officer who had so efficiently usurped control over the scene._

_"And, Dave? It would be in your best interests not to breathe a world of this to anyone. That applies to you and your pal there."_

_"But it's Shepard," David had pointed out in disbelief. "People will want to know!"_

_"Not a goddamn word, or you'll wish you had been Reaper fodder."_

_No! Liara protested as David had calmly acquiesced and started moving away from Shepard's still thrashing body. She knew that the civilian was scared, but she desperately wanted to return to her lover's side, especially as her skin took on a bluish hue and she continued to struggle just to draw a breath. The woman that lay in the mud seemed so far removed from the soldier she knew. Liara had never seen Shepard so helpless and vulnerable. It almost broke her as she felt the memory fleeing from her grasp._

_"Hold in there, Commander Shepard," David said softly. " Earth isn't done with you yet."_

* * *

 

A gasp escaped David's throat as he suddenly found himself back in the cabin. Liara T'Soni was still seated opposite him, but her breath came in ragged gasps and tears streamed down her cheeks. Her fingernails scratched repeatedly at the fabric of the seat covering.

"Dr T'Soni?" he asked hesitantly.

When she lifted her head, he found himself staring into a gaze like the one he had encountered in the alley in London. However, her obvious distress helped him not to shrink away with fear.

"You left her there!" she accused him in a horrible voice that spoke volumes of her devastation at what she had just witnessed. Her voice trembled as she continued, "You left her alone in that place...with the Alliance! You were all she had...she trusted you and you abandoned her!"

He swallowed quickly, wondering if he should fear for his life. The situation became even more tense when a blue aura started to shimmer around her body. Although it was beautiful, he had witnessed first-hand just how deadly her biotics could be. "Dr T'Soni...Liara, I had no choice. How was I to know what the Alliance intended to do with her? I thought that they would be the best people to help her! You must understand-"

"I do not want to understand!" Liara's voice suddenly rose several octaves as she stood. The corona around her body also increased in intensity. "Those fucking Alliance _bastards!_ " she hissed.

When David realised that the anger was not directed at him, he felt his fear dissipate. He also stood, but he did not risk approaching her. "I want to help you. I don't know how, but anything..."

Liara turned to look at him. Although her biotics had diminished slightly, they still danced with a palpable intensity. "I am sorry, David."

He shook his head. "No, I understand. The anger...you need it."

She nodded once in agreement, but gave no other response before she turned and discharged her pent-up power against the door. It buckled outwards with a terrible wrenching of metal and slammed against the other side of the corridor beyond. David was left standing in the cabin alone until Mack came running in half a minute later. He looked from the ruined door to David's ashen face.

"I take it you didn't do that," the New Zealander observed, quite calmly.

David let out a long, ragged exhale that was partially relief that he was still in one piece and partially in anticipation of the events to come. "I think the Alliance broke the 'don't piss off Liara T'Soni' rule."

* * *

 

**Vancouver, Canada**

_Access Denied._

Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard stared at the blunt response made by her console when she inputted her login details. Although she knew full well that her fingertips had moved in the correct sequence across the haptic interface, she tried a second time.

_Access Denied._

Without pausing to stare at the screen for a moment longer, Hannah pushed the chair backward. The legs screeched across the floor as she did so, serving as a jarring reminder that her nerves were already in a fragile state. Uncharacteristically, she spent almost a minute pacing the length of the room. Although the complex was brand new and extremely comfortable, her personal space was only a studio apartment. Despite her rank Hannah had insisted that she been assigned quarters far beneath her rank. She needed very little space for herself and, unlike other officers who still had family or the desire to find love, there would never be anyone staying over.

When she eventually did make the decision to act, her movements became all consuming. She drew out her well-worn sea bag and began hastily packing clothes and other necessary articles. This continued at a frenetic pace for several minutes before she abruptly stopped.

Hannah stared down at the bag lying on the foot of her bed. The realisation struck her that, although she could choose to run, it would be little more than a futile gesture. They were already watching her, as they had been since her daughter was uncovered beneath the streets of London. For one of the most closely watched figures within the Alliance, there would be nowhere she could run. With a harsh exhale, Hannah collapsed on the edge of the bed and placed her head in her hands. She'd already either burned or tapped dry her last remaining contacts in planning Heller's suicidal effort to break Evan out of the Alberta complex. Judging from the fact that she had been shut out of her own files, the escape had either been successful or it had gone horribly wrong. No knowing whether her daughter was alive or dead was by far the worst aspect of the whole situation.

_Still, old girl, this was never about your own escape route. She's all that matters_ , Hannah thought as she scrubbed at her temples. Although she had thought to extend her sphere of resistance further afield to Shepard's crewmembers, she was being too closely monitored to do anything that would not ruin their careers or endanger their lives. She'd seized the fortuitous opportunity to warn Miranda Lawson, but she suspected that her poorly veiled warning had only angered the headstrong ex-Cerberus Operative.

When the anticipated fist pounded on her door less than five minutes later, Hannah did not react with surprise or fear. Instead she gracefully rose to her feet and crossed the room. When she opened it, she was surprised to find herself staring at only two Alliance personnel – a grizzled Major who looked as though he was nearing retirement and a tall, portly looking marine with an oddly nervous expression.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" Hannah suspected that there was little point in trying to plead any sort of ignorance, but she had also been playing this game long enough to know not to give anything away.

"Rear Admiral Shepard, ma'am, we'd appreciate it if you came with us," the Major announced in a firm, no-nonsense tone. As he spoke he rested his hand pointedly on the pistol he wore at his waist. "We have someone who would like a word."

_Kessler no doubt_ , Hannah thought. _I'm not sure that being an old friend is going to help in this situation_. "Do I have any choice in the matter?" she asked.

"None whatsoever," he replied, reaching out to grab her elbow in a sudden and firm grip.

Although Hannah was far from the panicking type, she remembered the picture she had left sitting next to her console, the one of John and Evan. When she turned her head, she could see it sitting there. "I just need-"

"There's no time!" he growled in an urgent voice, dragging her out into the corridor.

The unmistakable urgency in his voice struck Hannah as odd. While they would have been told to bring her in without delay, she thought she detected an undercurrent of fear. The marine had not said a word and she noticed a thin sheen of sweat forming beneath his cap. It was not warm in her apartment complex.

"You're not Alliance are you?" she demanded.

He gave her a steady, unreadable expression in response. "I'd shut up and keep walking if I were you, ma'am."

"There are cameras-"

His lip curled upwards into a lopsided grin. "Yes, there are. Whether they actually work is another thing altogether." He propelled her forward with a firm hand in the centre of her back. "No please walk in silence, I'd hate to have to gag that gorgeous mouth of yours, ma'am."

When Hannah cast an indignant glare over her shoulder, the Alliance imposter merely responded with a casual wink. She snorted but complied with his request.

She had next to no memory of the skycar ride – predominantly for the fact that a blindfold had been wrapped securely over her eyes by the apologetic looking marine before she was forced into the back seat. Being treated in such a fashion was a new experience for the Rear Admiral. Although she had vague thoughts that she ought to be putting up more of a fight, she also supposed that wherever they were taking her could not possibly be any worse than Alliance headquarters. Nevertheless, when she was roughly shoved down onto a hard seat, Hannah started to feel a small amount of fear creeping into her thoughts. Her entire body was chilled to the bone as she was wearing just her casual blues with no jacket. An icy breeze was currently wafting around, biting through her thin layers. For some reason she already knew that she would not be allowed to return to her apartment. The fact that she had not had time to retrieve her picture was threatening to stir up more emotion than she had originally thought possible with the mere loss of a mere physical possession.

Almost inaudible footsteps struck the surface in front of her. As they drew close, Hannah listened for some hint of recognition. Whoever approached, they were clearly not wearing heavy soled Alliance issue footwear. They were boots made for stealth, but each footfall was heavy…almost angry. Hannah suddenly caught a brief trace of a vaguely remembered scent and recognition dawned.

"Liara," she whispered.

Only seconds later, the blindfold was yanked away from her eyes. They required little time to adjust to the light as the room was already dim, the far reaches cast in shadow. Hannah's lips parted slightly. Her speculation had been correct. Dr Liara T'Soni stood in front of her, dressed in form fitting black commando leathers. Although the asari's expression was blank, Hannah could almost see the fury radiating from her body.

"Why was the Alliance coming to arrest you?" Liara asked coldly.

Hannah tilted her chin upward in a defiant gesture. She was not some young girl to be cowed by an intimidating display. "How the hell did you know they were coming to arrest me?"

Liara glared in response to her question being met with another question as opposed to an answer. A second figure stepped into Hannah's view. She immediately recognised the Alliance 'Major.' He'd already rolled his sleeves up and unbuttoned his shirt in a manner that was not the regulation-approved way to wear a uniform. When she turned her head further to the right, she also found the second man. He'd removed his cap to reveal a head of thinning red hair. Hannah did not know how she had ever mistaken him for a soldier.

"I wish we could offer an impressive answer, but it might simply be that Dave and I jumped them behind your apartment building. Well, to be fair I did most of the jumping, Dave just stood and gawped," he explained in his oddly charming manner. Ignoring Liara's impatient expression, he stepped forward and hunkered down in front of her. "Ma'am…Hannah, the Alliance will be looking for their personnel and Dr T'Soni is operating on a very short fuse, we _are_ running out of time…and you know that as well as I."

"Evangeline is alive," Hannah offered quietly. When none of the expected surprise became evident in their faces, she realised that they already knew. "The Alliance found her six months ago-"

"No they didn't," the fake marine finally spoke up. "I bloody well found her. It was the Alliance who decided to keep her hidden. Can you tell me why the hell they would do that?"

Hannah felt all three pairs of eyes boring into her. She eventually had to lower her gaze, especially after she caught the blatant accusation evident in Liara's cold stare. "Before Evan was found, the Alliance was already well underway with their policy changes to implement a new kind of order, a new response to the Galaxy as a whole. With humanity faring better than the other races, there are those who believed it was our destiny to seize the opportunity to become not just a major player, but the dominant one. Unfortunately for humanity as a whole, that was the vocal opinion. Those who did not share it were removed or forced to adapt. I myself chose the latter course out of nothing more than cowardice.”

"Hackett? Anderson?" Liara demanded.

"David Anderson was invalided out of the SA only a few months after the end of the war. He went to ground and I've heard very little from him," Hannah explained in a voice heavy with regret. "Steven was…not as fortunate. He did not fit within their new world order…and neither did Evan."

"But she's Commander Shepard!" the red-haired man protested in disbelief.

"She's right," Liara added. "Evan would never have gone along with such a regime. She would have fought to the bitter end to ensure that people like that did not get so much as a whiff of power. Next to taking on the Reapers, bringing down the Alliance would have been a holiday. At one stage I would not have thought humans capable of such global idiocy."

"Clearly you held us in too high a regard," Hannah replied softly.

"You know where they are holding her, Hannah," Liara continued in a business-like manner.

The Rear Admiral debated whether to nod or shake her head in response. "I _knew_ where they held her. An underground Alliance facility in Alberta."

Liara's eyes narrowed. " _Held_?"

"There was an escape attempt, I had high-level input, but it was orchestrated on the base level by one of Evan's doctors who was sympathetic – Bryan Heller. I expected to be arrested regardless of its outcome due to the simple fact of my relationship with her. I am dreadfully sorry, Liara. I have no concrete information to offer as to the success or failure of Heller's plan. I can only speculate that something went wrong."

"You're going to take us there," Liara informed Hannah in a matter-of-fact tone.

Hannah stared at her in disbelief. "It's a heavily guarded Alliance facility. I do not know the extent of your own abilities, Dr T'Soni, but with all due respect you have two men – one only marginally more useful than the other - and a marine who hasn’t fired a weapon in years at your disposal. What do you think you're going to be able to achieve?"

"Saving the life of the woman I love," Liara replied tersely.

Hannah studied the asari's face and suddenly realised that she was only seconds away from breaking down. With an almost imperceptible sniff, she turned and walked out of the room. She was left alone with Liara's two companions, both of whom were looking slightly nervous at the prospect of taking on the Alliance.

"I resent being called only marginally more useful than Dave," the older gentleman spoke up as he extended a hand to help her to her feet. "Name's Mack by the way. It's a true pleasure to meet you, Mrs Shepard."

Hannah found herself suddenly tongue-tied. She awkwardly shook her head. "Please, I haven't been Mrs Shepard in a long time. And since I don't think I'm going to be a Rear-Admiral in the Alliance Navy for much longer, it's just Hannah."

"Um…and I'm David," the second man added nervously. "David Codrington. I was the engineer who found your daughter beneath the ruins of the Crucible. Dr T'Soni saved my life when the Alliance decided that I could no longer be trusted to keep a secret...and here I am."

"Some army, huh?" Mack observed. "Do you think we could call on some of Shepard's former buddies to help us out?"

Hannah shook her head. "I'd already considered that. Those that are in the Alliance would stir up too much suspicion. Shepard has entire armies who would gladly help her off-world, but I fear that we neither have that much time on our hands nor will they be able to get past the security net to even set foot on Earth…" Her voice trailed off and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "There is one we might be able to ask. Although I'm not exactly her favourite person at the moment. If you can stop her from trussing me up in a biotic field, I think she'd be both willing and able to help us without arousing undue suspicion."

Mack shrugged nonchalantly. "Five is one better than four."

David was less than convinced. "Just tell me that she's some sort of superwoman?"

While Mack was reassuring David that he knew at least half a dozen ways to kill a man with his little finger, Hannah quietly slipped out through the same door Liara had used a few minutes earlier. The room beyond was almost completely in darkness but she saw enough to see a sudden movement, accompanied by the sharp sound of someone desperately trying to curtail tears.

"Dr T'Soni? Liara?" Hannah felt suddenly conspicuous and out of her depth. She wasn't the sort of person that individuals usually cried around – unless she had made them cry in the first place. "I am sorry to intrude."

"Then why did you?" Liara's voice was thick with emotion.

Hannah found her own tongue stuck in her throat when she went to reply. "I...I was worried."

Liara suddenly stepped forward into the light. Although she had made some attempt to scrub her cheeks dry, they were still tear stained. "You were worried about me, Rear Admiral Shepard? If you had my best interests at heart then you would have found some way to tell me that Evan was alive." Her voice was tinged with anger and regret as she continued to move forward. "You knew!"

She stubbornly shook her head in response. "It is easy enough to judge when you know little of the circumstances," Hannah tried to explain. She was running a trembling hand through her cheek length hair when she came to a belated realisation. Her hair was the same length that Evan's had been throughout most of her life. "They would have killed her, Liara! On the slightest whim. I did what I could to help her while ensuring that she remained alive." She lowered her head. "And because of it...she'll never forgive me."

Even as she spoke, she saw Liara's anger dissipate to the point where the tears threatened to fall again. Without dwelling further on what she was about to do, Hannah suddenly closed the gap between the two of them and awkwardly folded the trembling asari into her arms. Little time elapsed between Liara trying to resist and collapsing against the human woman. While it was almost impossible for her to fully commit to the gesture, she nevertheless found her own emotions responding in a similar vein. All that time spent standing on the other side of the glass watching her daughter in captivity were brought into a stark, unflatteringly light. Although she would not let herself succumb to tears, Hannah could share in Liara's pain. For a few moments, she was able to close her eyes and imagine that she was holding Evan again.

When Liara finally drew back, she gave Hannah a look that was both terrifying and reassuring at the same time. "I promise you, I'm going to do everything in my power to find Evan."

"I have absolutely no doubt that you will, my girl-" Hannah cut herself off when she realised her instinctive mistake. She squared her shoulders and held Liara at arm's length. "More than anyone else in this poxy Galaxy, the two of you deserve a future."

 


	12. A Question of a Personal Nature

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2**

Sam Traynor's abdominal muscles had not ached so painfully since basic. Not since those early morning PT sessions where a loud-mouthed Gunny stood blowing chunks of spittle in her face as she struggled to pull herself up through each lousy sit-up. The humiliation of being called a disgrace to the military profession still rankled, but sit-ups weren't the reason for this ache.

The simple explanation was copious amounts of good, old-fashioned laughter.

In the seat beside her, Joker pointed enthusiastically toward the screen. "Okay, this is my favourite part…wait for it!"

A reporter wearing a crisp, clean suit was seated opposite a very bored looking Ashley Williams in the Observation Lounge. _{Do you mind if I ask you a question of a more personal nature, Commander Williams?}_

Both Joker and Sam were already chortling at the resulting glower that consumed Ashley's previously expressionless mask.

_{My thoughts on the matter haven't stopped you asking any number of inane questions already…so shoot,}_ the marine replied testily. _{I'll decide whether I answer it.}_

_{I don't need to tell you that war-related casualties on Earth were catastrophic. Do you feel as though it is the duty of exemplary individuals such as yourself to participate in the re-population of our planet and colonies?}_

"Oh damn," Sam whispered. It was all she could force out through her tears of laughter.

She watched as Ashley processed the question, resulting in a bright flush that spread across each of the captain’s cheeks. It was difficult to tell if the response was anger or embarrassment.

"Trust me, that isn’t even the best part," Joker added.

_{That's a stupid question,}_ Ashley replied bluntly. _{Of course families are important, in whatever form they take-}_

_{You are undoubtedly an outstanding soldier and leader, Commander Williams, but do you feel as though you might best serve humanity by...well, by finding a virile human male and raising a large family?}_ The reporter continued to probe for the answer he wanted without realising how close to the edge he was skirting.

"Oh. My. God. He did not just ask the Commander that," Sam gasped in disbelief.

Joker was desperately attempting to stifle his laughter before he broke a rib. "Oh yes he did!"

_{You need to stop talking,}_ Ashley replied in a tight voice. _{Now.}_

_{So you disagree with me?}_

_{With what? With the fact that I can serve humanity better with my womb than my Black Widow? That the best use of my skills is to find an exemplary male individual and invite him to impregnate me? Are you suggesting your own services, Mr Sarna?}_

_{No one is suggesting that you leave your career, but you might want to give consideration to-}_

With the only warning being a slight twitch beneath her right eye, the on-screen figure of Ashley Williams suddenly launched herself across the table and seized Sarna by the scruff of his suit and hauled him to his feet. Both Joker and Sam uttered matching exclamations of surprise and delight when she marched him backwards, jarring the camera in the process. The Commander then threw him up against the wall none too gently. The VI camera obediently pivoted and changed angle, zooming in on the two faces – one furious and the other terrified.

_{Listen to me you cock-sucking rat, my womb is none of your fucking business. I'm a marine in the SA Navy, and as such your questions should be addressed to me in that capacity. However, after I rip out your tongue I don't think you'll be in much of a position to ask anymore fucking questions. This interview is over.}_

_{Your press office promised me an hour!}_

Sam cocked her head in admiration as she watched the train-wreck of an interview play out in front of her. "You've got to admire his persistence…and his bravery."

_{The Press Office huh? My Council Spectre card trumps your Press Office one, buddy. Now get the fuck out of my quarters.}_

_{You arrogant bitch-}_

His words were cut short all too abruptly when Ashley drew the Carnifex from her holster in one smooth motion. She levelled it directly toward the camera. _{Interview over.}_

The muzzle flashed and a split second later the feed went dead. Sam just stared in disbelief, shaking her head slightly as to whether that had actually happened or if Joker was making her watch some ridiculous hoax. However, the woman on screen had been far too convincing to be anyone other than the real Ashley Williams.

"Something tells me the Alliance should have given the Commander some PR training before letting her loose in front of a camera."

"Wait until you see the ANN interview where she threatens to shove her Black Widow up the guy's ass," Joker said. "I think Williams hates reporters even more than Shepard did."

Eyebrows lifted in surprise, Sam turned to regard Joker. "Shepard hated reporters?"

"Did she ever! You didn't hear about the two times she socked that al-Jilani woman – right in the kisser! Pow!" Joker mimed the action. "I wasn't there, but Garrus did a fantastic re-enactment. You know, he's a damn good actor – for a Turian."

Sam laughed, but any potential retelling of Shepard's antics was swiftly curtailed by the alarm on her omni-tool signalling the start of yet another duty shift. She sighed and eased herself out of the co-pilot's chair. Before she left the cockpit, Sam placed a gentle hand on Joker's shoulder. "Thanks for that, Moreau. Yet again I owe you one for cheering me up."

"Thank EDI for tapping into those feeds," Joker replied with a shit-eating grin.

_{I merely did as requested, Jeff,}_ EDI spoke up for herself. _{You assured me that those interviews should be recorded and saved for posterity…and I agree with you. They are a valuable record of life aboard the_ Normandy _.}_

"I don't know if our beloved Commander will share the same opinion, but thank you all the same, EDI," Sam added.

"Just make sure you don't mention wombs or virile human males in her presence," was Joker's helpful parting suggestion.

Sam found it almost impossible to keep the grin from her face as she returned to her station. While she could not imagine a conversation where either of the taboo topics would come up, she couldn’t stop thinking about them. She was idly wondering whether it was healthy for a lesbian to spend so much time thinking about virile males when she heard the elevator open behind her. Sam glanced over her shoulder in a casual fashion and almost self-combusted spectacularly when she found herself staring directly into the still stormy face of Ashley Williams. The interview had taken place that morning, but clearly the passage of time had not dispelled the Commander's anger.

"Are there any messages for me, Specialist?"

"Um, yes ma'am." Sam brought up the incoming messages. "You've received…fifty-seven."

"Can you filter them for me?" Ashley requested. "Any that relate to the supposed destruction of a camera – delete them. Those from Alliance HQ can be filed away and I'll look at them when I'm less likely to respond in a manner that will see me court-martialled."

"Are you alright, ma'am?" Sam asked carefully. _Don't mention wombs or virile human males!_ "Is there anything I can do?"

"Unless you can take my place in one of these damn interviews…" Ashley's voice trailed off as she ran her hand absently over the console in front of her as though checking for dust. With the _Normandy_ still dry-docked, there was very little happening on the CIC. "Just filter the messages, Traynor. That'll be enough."

"Aye-aye, ma'am. I'll fend off those virile males wanting to impregnate you," Sam reassured her Commander in a determined voice. It was only as Ashley's brow furrowed in a deep frown that she realised the exact nature of the words that had escaped her treacherous lips. "C-Commander Williams, I am so-"

"Traynor, if you ever use the word 'virile' in my presence again, I promise that you will spend the rest of your life brushing your teeth manually…and I'm going to be using your fancy-ass toothbrush to polish my boots. Am I understood?"

"Understood, ma'am. Sorry."

Sam was relieved beyond belief when her console alerted her to the presence of an urgent message. When she saw the sender, she risked a slight smile.

"What the hell are you grinning at, Sam?" Ashley demanded, completely forgetting for a few moments that they were both on duty and she was addressing a crewmember, not her friend.

"The message that's just come through, it's from Ms Lawson," Sam offered quietly. "I wouldn't begin to presume anything, but it might…cheer you up?"

Ashley's expression did not waiver, but she responded with a nod. "Thank-you, Specialist. I'll take it in my quarters."

As she turned and retraced her steps back toward the elevator, Ash thought she heard a sigh of relief escape Traynor's lips. She could hardly blame the woman. Ever since starting the Alliance's damn PR campaign she'd become so tightly strung that she felt liable to snap at any moment. As her immediate future was consumed by reporters and their asinine questions, her time with Miranda already felt like a distant memory.

It almost felt as though she was beating a retreat to the Crow's Nest when she ducked gratefully inside. The door closed behind her, going some way toward sealing her off from the rest of the ship. Even though the space represented her position and duties by its very nature, Ash found comfort in solitude. The Alliance retro-fit team had stripped out the useless fish tank and replaced it with a feature more to her liking – a weapons rack. Her Black Widow was secured alongside her old M-98 and a selection of assault rifles. As she passed, she reached out and trailed her fingers along the length of her sniper in an almost ritualistic gesture. Almost everything else in the Nest remained the same as it had when Shepard occupied the space. Even though she had no patience for scale-modelling herself, Ash had insisted that the team leave Shepard’s collection exactly as they were.

Although her shift wasn't officially over for fifteen minutes, she reasoned that she'd pulled enough overtime during the past six months to justify slacking off this once. As she kicked off her boots, Ash transferred the vidcom message to her portable pad. After filling a glass with a finger of scotch from her stash, she carried both pad and drink to the bed.

"Alright, M." Ash felt like talking to herself for once as she settled back against the pillows, feeling slightly decadent. "There had better be nakedness."

However, when the screen booted up, Ash regretfully saw that Miranda was decently covered – even though the white vest she wore was devilishly sexy. Ash's first thought was that Miranda looked slightly tired. Her suspicions ran to late night conversations with Lynn. While she was genuinely glad that Miranda was building a relationship with her family, she felt decidedly nervous at the potential secrets her sister could reveal.

Miranda managed a half-decent attempt at a smile as she started her message. Ash's heart skipped several beats in response.

_{Hey you.}_

"Hey yourself," Ash whispered instinctively.

_{The Alliance has definitely put you to work. The girls and I caught the ANN interview last night. You have many talents, but appearing in front of a camera is clearly not one of them,}_ Miranda said, her smile blooming as she spoke.

_Let's just hope you don't see the one I taped this morning_ , Ash thought with a wince. She had not bothered to watch the ANN broadcast - although she did wonder whether they had edited out the threat she'd made against the reporter involving the non-regulation use of her Black Widow. Ash had felt a distinct warmth in her chest when Miranda said 'the girls and I.' Her fears that Miranda would hate being left with Abby and Lynn had obviously not eventuated.

_{I did save it to my omni though – for repeat...private viewings. You're undeniably hot when you're angry.}_ Miranda paused for a moment and chewed thoughtfully on her lip as she often did when she was pondering something. The smile faded. _{I've been called up for early deployment as well, I guess the Alliance don’t believe in allowing their personnel to relax. I don't know where I've been assigned, but I thought I should let you know not to expect any contact for several days – at least not until I'm settled in my new post. I'll be thinking of you though, marine. Just promise you'll try and behave yourself around those reporters…for me?}_ Miranda cast a glance off to her right. Ash easily recognised a flicker of anxiety pass across her usually poised features. _{I'm sorry for the brevity of this message, babe. I guess I just wanted to say that I love you. Abby and Lynn send their love as well. They're...amazing women, Ash. You should be proud of yourself for you part in raising them. I'll be in touch soon. Take care of yourself and that crew of yours. I love you.}_

With a last, slightly forced smile from Miranda, the image winked out and Ash was left staring at a blank screen. Throughout the message, something about her lover's entire delivery had seemed off. Then there was the use of 'babe.' It had been slipped into the conversation, but she knew full well that Miranda was incapable of using the endearment so casually. She tossed the pad onto the bed and downed the scotch in one gulp.

_What the hell are you playing at, M?_ As she stood, Ash couldn't shake the awful thought that Miranda had lied to her for some reason. She stubbornly refused to let her mind run away with rampant speculations based on a few weary smiles and one casual 'babe.'

_She's tired, that's all_ , she reasoned with herself. _Lynn has been keeping her up…and I'm not there to stroke her back while she's trying to get to sleep._ Ash grinned as she set her glass down and began stripping off her uniform. A brief shower would serve to blast away the day's stress.

Several minutes later, clad in just her underwear, she refilled the tumbler with an overly generous measure of scotch and returned to the bed. Her earlier concerns seemed almost outlandish. As she settled back and closed her eyes, she reasoned that it was nice that Miranda could so easily call her 'babe.’ It would give her more opportunities to use 'sweetcheeks' in return.

* * *

 

**Vancouver, Canada**

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Miranda Lawson checked the address displayed on her omni. After reconfirming, she realised that the derelict building she was standing in was the right address. Aside from the detritus left by departed squatters, there was no one there to greet her.

She puffed out a frustrated burst of air to remove a strand of hair that was continuously falling in front of her eyes. The meal that Abby had been preparing when she had left the apartment had smelled delicious, and her concocted excuse about being called into Alliance HQ was half-hearted at best. It was only when she realised that she was feeling resentful at missing out on spending time with the Williams sisters that Miranda accepted just how much she had changed. There had been a time when she would have gladly accepted any excuse to remove herself from a familial situation. Now she honestly missed Abby and Lynn's company. Her only regret was that Ash was not there to share in the frequent moments of hilarity.

Her careful gaze scanned her surrounds but she was already rueing the fact that she had obeyed the mysterious message that claimed to have been sent by Liara T'Soni. Miranda did not make a habit of obeying cryptic messages, but it had been sent via an address she'd only given out to two people – Shepard and Ashley. One was dead and the other she trusted implicitly.

When she caught an unnatural shadow moving out of the corner of her eye, Miranda responded by creating a discreet mass effect field above the fingertips of her right hand. Although she maintained an air of nonchalance about her actions, the fear that she had walked into some sort of trap began to play havoc with her composure. When she turned and saw a familiar individual step out of the shadows, she extinguished the field in a heartbeat. Despite the lingering sense of unease that hung in the air, she felt a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips at the welcome sight of Liara T'Soni. Miranda couldn’t bring herself to consider Liara a friend. They barely knew each other and their shared history was awkward at best. However, Liara was Shepard's bondmate, and as such an integral part of the eccentric _Normandy_ family.

"And I thought you'd disappeared into the far reaches of the Galaxy," Miranda observed as she propped a hand on her hip in a casual manner. "Yet all this time, you were hanging out on Earth under the very noses of the Alliance?"

Miranda's smile faded as Liara stepped into the light. She tried to keep her lips from parting in shock, but it was difficult when faced with the spectrum of suffering etched clearly on Liara's face. Few people had seen Liara in the wake of Shepard's death over Alchera, but Miranda's first encounter with her had come during that time. If it were possible, Liara now appeared even more haggard. Miranda's sincere concern was mitigated by the faint air of expectation hovering around the asari. Something was clearly about to happen.

"Not exactly under their noses, but I have been living on Earth," Liara responded with a polite shrug. While she did not give away a great deal of emotion, her tone was sincere. "It is good to see you, Miranda."

"Likewise," Miranda added with a nod.

"Or should that be Second-Lieutenant Lawson?" Liara asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm here in my capacity as a private citizen, not an Alliance Officer," Miranda added quickly. She was not surprised in the slightest at Liara's extensive knowledge. "As pleasant as it is to see you, I know you didn't invite me here for tea and cake. Whatever you're going to ask of me, I already have the feeling that it's not going to sit well with my superiors."

The resulting expression that flickered across Liara's tired features seemed to indicate both agreement and a distinct disquiet.

“No, it will not.”

Miranda removed her hand from her hip and straightened. She held her body tense in anticipation. "Why did you contact me?"

Liara opened her mouth to reply, but all that emerged immediately was a ragged exhalation. She eventually had to lower her gaze, unable to meet Miranda's challenging stare during her revelation. "Shepard…is alive."

Miranda's body sagged almost instantly, as though someone had unexpectedly punched her in the gut.

_Shepard is alive._

It was the best possible news that she could have received, and yet Liara's words _stung_ painfully. Seven months of mourning had passed. Seven months of struggling to accept the fact that a friend she cared for deeply had died in the ruins of London. Miranda had more practice than most when it came to controlling her emotions, but it required a monumental amount of willpower to deny her emotions the release they craved.

By the time Liara lifted her gaze, she had schooled her face into an expressionless mask. Although no words were exchanged, Miranda very quickly realised that Liara was grateful for her subdued reaction. It was almost ridiculous. Their lives were intimately entwined, but the mere thought of breaking down in each other's company was inconceivable.

"But there are complications?" Miranda asked brusquely.

She had already deduced as much from Liara's mannerisms, but the difficulty lay in comprehending how that could even be possible. Surely if Shepard was alive it would be all over the news. Every effort would have been made to reunite her with friends and family.

"The Alliance is…was holding Shepard prisoner," Liara replied succinctly. "She escaped."

"Wait." Miranda was still struggling to process the first piece of information. "The Alliance? As in the same human military organisation that Shepard devoted herself to for almost her entire adult life. The same Alliance that just commissioned me as an officer. That Alliance? You'll forgive me if I'm a little sceptical here, Liara, but that claim is-"

"Is it any easier to accept if I corroborate Dr T'Soni's words?"

The additional voice came from the shadows, but Miranda recognised it well enough without having to wait for the newcomer to approach. Her brows had tightened into a scowl before the woman stepped fully into the light.

"Not unless I overestimate your intelligence," Miranda retorted bluntly.

Hannah Shepard pursed her lips into a thin smile as Liara allowed her to take over the exposition. "I apologise for my behaviour yesterday, Second-Lieutenant Lawson. I did not expect you to heed advice given to you by someone you do not respect, but a part of me did hope that you were cynical enough to start asking questions of the institution you profess to serve. The Alliance…is not what it once was. Cancerous cells have spread amongst its upper echelons, creating the fear and doubt that has led to the current state of affairs. Perhaps it has not yet filtered down to the lower ranks?"

Miranda clearly remembered the blatant xenophobia of some of her fellow OCS candidates and her short but disturbing interview with Jian and Alves. After years' operating alongside individuals with similar viewpoints during her time with Cerberus, Miranda had not even bothered to consider that there was a deeper significance.

"To some extent," Miranda admitted irritably. "But I'm sure you'll fill me in on the rest, and explain what the hell this has to do with Shepard."

She listened with mounting fury as Hannah and Liara laid everything bare – the repugnant fanaticism that had swept swiftly through Alliance High Command in the wake of the Reaper War and what information they did have relating to Shepard's incarceration and escape. It was only when they finished that Miranda realised that she had lost her subconscious control over her biotics. With the fervour of her anger, the tight constraints that usually required no effort to maintain had come unravelled. It was a loss of control that had not happened since she was a child. There was nothing to be done other than to discharge the pent up dark energy against one of the ruined walls. The fields danced and swirled with dangerous potential before fading.

"Okay, she is definitely coming with us!"

This time the voice was unfamiliar. Although neither Liara nor Hannah responded with alarm, Miranda's entire body tensed as they were joined by two human males wearing Alliance uniforms. Neither represented the calibre of squadmate that Miranda would have expected – one was old and the other, taller man bordered on being overweight.

"I'm David," the younger one moved forward with his hand outstretched. "David Codrington. This cantankerous old bastard is Pericles Macklin, but make sure you call him Mack."

"She can call me whatever she wants," Mack added in an eager voice.

David continued, "With you being able to do that biotic…stuff as well as Dr T'Soni, we might actually stand a chance."

Miranda regarded the proffered hand coolly before turning to Liara. "You must be joking. This is our squad? The galaxy's worst mother, this fatso and a guy who looks old enough to be my father? You and I would stand a better chance operating alone."

David withdrew his hand and turned to his companion with a grimace written plainly on his face. "Bloody hell, she's not very nice is she, Mack?"

"Nope," Mack replied with an appreciative grin. "But I like her. Reminds me of my second wife."

Liara ignored them both. "These are the resources we have available. If you would prefer I got in touch with Ashley-"

"No!" Miranda interrupted vehemently. "It's simple enough for me to drop off the radar for a few days, but Ash is on active duty. She gets involved and her career will be over…not to mention her life in danger. I know she'd gladly take that risk, but I'm not willing to let her." Miranda had already realised that Ashley would not share her opinion. However, she was willing to incur her lover's wrath to keep her at the helm of the _Normandy_. She had the distinct feeling that Ashley needed to stay precisely where she was – in the middle of the viper-ridden pit that was the Alliance. "We'll make do with the personnel we have. However inadequate they are." She briefly glanced back toward the two men. David regarded her warily while Mack winked good-humouredly. "Do we have a plan?"

"We go to Alberta…I find Evan," Liara replied brusquely.

"That's our plan?" Miranda asked in disbelief. She pressed her fingertips to her temples and massaged them intently for several seconds. When she finished, Liara's expression remained unrepentant. "It's not very good," she sighed.

"You try explaining that to _her_ ," David added with a knowing glance toward Liara.

"Within the broader picture of the Alliance that you and Rear Admiral Shepard have depicted, they will be desperate to recover Shepard," Miranda tried to reason. "The strength of their forces in the area will be considerable. It's another suicide mission."

"I understand your concerns," Liara explained patiently. "But for all their personnel, their firepower, and their hate, we have something the Alliance does not. _Me_. For the past few days I have been able to _feel_ Evan. She is still alive. Her fear is my own. I cannot explain it further, but I have every confidence that I will be able to find her before they do. She is my bondmate, Miranda. All I ask is that you place your trust in me…and in her."

"You know I would trust you both with my life," Miranda eventually admitted in a quiet voice. She squared her shoulders. "What the bloody hell are we waiting for then?"

* * *

 

**Athabasca Facility, Alberta, Canada**

_{Dr Stone, ma'am. We have been unsuccessful in locating any trace of the Subject. Given the condition she was in, it is reasonable to assume that she drowned shortly after entering the river.}_

"Lieutenant...whatever-the-fuck-your-name-is-" Dr Naomi Stone regarded the expectant face of the marine on the screen in front of her with barely concealed disdain. "-I thought I made it clear to you idiots that I will not consider her dead until you haul her bloated corpse in front of me.”

His chiselled jaw tightened as he gave her a curt nod. _{You did, ma'am. I'll have units press further downstream. With the strength of the currents, it is likely that-}_

"I don't care about the fucking technicalities, you daft cunt!" Stone's controlled demeanour unravelled as she stabbed her finger against the screen. Her face contorted into a brutish mask. The entire console swayed violently for several seconds after the contact. "If you don't locate the Subject your life will be forfeit. Is that simple enough for you to understand?"

_{Understood, ma'am.}_ This time the nod was sincere. _{We'll get it done. Beta team leader out.}_

Stone said nothing as the grim visage of the Lieutenant disappeared and she was left sitting in her office in silence. The lack of sound went some ways toward dispelling her fury, but it remained simmering just under the surface of her skin – much as it had throughout the preceding weeks. Since _her_ arrival.

It was a simple happenstance that she was stationed at the Athabasca Facility when the Subject – Shepard – had arrived in a stasis pod in an induced coma. The riot of memories dredged up from her subconscious upon seeing the woman again had struck her at the first sight. Unlike Shepard, Naomi had never forgotten their night together on the Citadel. She remembered everything. The way the enigmatic soldier had so effortlessly turned what was otherwise a mundane night out with some of her friends from medical school upside down. Despite her dark, morose exterior, Shepard had been passionate to the point of being all-consuming. Naomi had never felt as alive as in the moment that Shepard – her voice heavy with lust – declared that she wanted to fuck her. At that moment, there had been no question of refusing the marine. The desire and violence wrapped up in that one night had indelibly tainted the rest of her life.

When she saw Shepard again for the first time in eight years, those emotions resurfaced tenfold. It had taken an almost inhuman amount of self-control to force herself to rein everything in behind a pleasant, compassionate exterior. However, with the opportunity of a lifetime practically handed to her on a plate, she was determined to extract every iota of the vengeance that had previously been nothing more than an unattainable dream. Naomi had savoured the pleasure of seeing Shepard humiliated and bound, all the while restraining her darker impulses behind a friendly smile.

She had thought that she would be able to deal with a man like Bryan Heller. Her instincts had told her that he was a man of cruel tendencies and his initial treatment of Shepard had played out by the book. She had often admired and envied the sadistic touches he employed in his work, even as they threatened to push her over the edge. As though her memories had a switch, Naomi summoned the image of Shepard lying on the bed with her gown bunched up around her waist and her own piss drying on her face. Her own apparently compassionate reaction in tugging the gown downward was born out of the need to remove temptation from her reach. She'd then offered Shepard a shower – both for the privacy it offered from the monitoring devices and the opportunity to leer at Shepard under the pretext of helping her. With her heart hammering in her chest, she revelled in the play of water over the ex-marine's naked body as she listened to the promise that she would try and contact her squid-head lover.

Her self-discipline had frayed in the wake of that incident to the point where she had needed to relieve her urges on the body of one of the marines stationed at the base. The young woman had seemed willing enough on that occasion and those that followed. She was also smart enough to keep their liaison discreet.

It had been the perfect situation until Heller decided that he was a hero. Everything had swiftly fallen to pieces in the space of less than an hour. Weeks of restraining herself, of careful patience waiting for a time when she would be able to act, it was all ruined. Although Naomi finally had her coveted permission to break Shepard, she knew the marine Lieutenant was probably correct in his assumption that the woman was dead.

With a harsh exhalation, Naomi established a link on her intercom and opened a channel. She hated her own lack of willpower, but she needed an outlet for her tension. "Corporal Daine?"

Only a few moments passed before there was an answer in a youthful female voice. _{Dr Stone, ma'am. What can I do for you?}_

"I need to see you in my office, immediately."

_{Understood, ma'am.}_ If the Corporal was at all reticent about the summons, it was not evident in her tone.

Naomi was drumming her fingers in an impatient rhythm on her desk when the knock at her door finally came. She issued the command to enter in a terse voice but did not turn to look as the door opened and then closed again.

Corporal Daine cleared her throat. "You wanted to see me, ma'am?"

The slight catch to the younger woman's voice sent a thrill of anticipation travelling down Naomi's spine. She finally swivelled in her chair and turned to face the marine. Her dark hair was tightly bound per regulations. She had pale blue eyes and a lithe, panther-like body. The physical similarities were definitely there – enough to suit Stone's immediate needs. She stood and stripped the lab coat from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

"I did," Stone replied as she started undoing the buttons of her shirt. "Lock the door behind you and come here"

* * *

 

**Alberta Wilds, Canada**

Liara was gone when she woke up.

Shepard felt an interminable sense of solitude even before she opened her eyes. Although her clothing was dry and her wounds were dressed, the comforting presence of Liara's memory was gone. She expected her eyes to open to darkness, but instead the interior of the cave was bathed in a dim, eerie light. As she dragged her aching body into a sitting position, she saw that it was bright enough to reflect off the surface of the water.

"Liara?" Her voice was a strange, incongruous addition to her environment. Not only for the fact that it was the only sound other than the rustle of her clothing, but because she felt foolish calling out for someone she knew was not there. The only response she received was a faint echo that confirmed her plight. "Come on, baby. You wouldn't leave me alone in this shithole would you?"

The echo faded and a weak, derisive snort escaped her nose. If she had been talking to herself yesterday, then at least she could explain it away with a concussion. Other than an all-consuming exhaustion and a constant, dull pain, she felt alert and in complete control of her faculties. It did not take Shepard long to realise that she was trying to give herself a reason to find a way out of her current predicament. She'd escaped one prison only to fall into another – although at least this one was not occupied by sadistic doctors.

_If I go back into the river I'll die,_ Shepard thought. Although the mirror-like surface of the water in front of her looked almost beautiful, she knew it held only death below. It was only by some miracle that she had been dragged into the cave in the first place – not as a result of her swimming abilities. At one stage dying had seemed an attractive prospect, now she was desperate to live. _I'm not going to give the Alliance the satisfaction_.

She sighed and pressed the back of her head against the rough wall behind her. It was only when she made an effort to concentrate that clarity came. _The light...it has to come from somewhere_. With her gaze cast into the reaches of the cavern above her head, Shepard realised that the dim light was filtering down from a fissure. With excitement bubbling in her chest, she dragged herself to her feet – pausing momentarily as a wave of vertigo passed. There was a gap. The light had only ever been dim because it was moonlight that shone through. Although it was difficult to tell precisely how large it was, Shepard thought it might possibly accommodate her slight frame. The only question was whether she could scale the sides of the cave in her condition.

Although Shepard reasoned that she might have a better chance if she rested another day, she could not stomach the thought of remaining trapped and alone for another minute.

"Okay, at least if I fall and break my neck, there won't be anyone to witness my stupidity," Shepard admitted to herself. "Whether real or imagined."

As she started up the lower reaches of the cave, Shepard found the going relatively easy. It would have been almost effortless had she been in peak physical condition, but the wide ledges acted as a sort of staircase leading upwards. After a few minutes of climbing toward the opening in a zig-zag fashion, Shepard glanced downward to find that she had reached the point where a fall would not simply break her leg, but would no doubt kill her. Her climb slowed as she became more cautious with each movement.

When it became necessary to use handholds to drag herself higher she realised her right arm was almost useless. The gunshot wound to her shoulder meant that she could put very little weight on the arm. Instead Shepard had to rely on her left hand – the one she still did not trust. It was only when she suddenly lost her footing and found herself clinging to a ledge by fingers that she did not regard as hers, that she realised just how inhuman it really was. With just the tips of her fingers, she managed to claw her way across to another ledge where she could regain her purchase with her feet.

"Well that was fun," Shepard murmured, flexing the chalky white digits of her left hand. Where flesh would have been grazed and reddened by the abrasive contact, the surface remained unblemished. Unnerved, Shepard ceased staring at it.

As she neared the opening, Shepard only had to draw in a deep breath in order for the sweet smell of damp earth and rotting leaves to reach her nostrils. However as tantalisingly close as escape was, the last four metres or so would require her to manoeuvre up an almost vertical channel of rock. The only way to do it was to wedge her body into the space and walk herself up, keeping her back and feet pressed against either side. A cake walk for an N7 under normal circumstances, it would now be torturously slow going.

Buoyed by the soft breeze filtering downward, Shepard started upwards. She kept her movements small – alternating between walking her feet up a few inches and shuffling her back higher in a wriggling movement. The effort required to keep her body wedged in the channel meant that she was exhausted before she had travelled halfway up the formation. Her shoulder sent stabbing pains throughout the rest of her body each time she put any pressure on it – which was almost constantly. Shepard kept her teeth gritted to avoid crying out. Each breath was sucked laboriously through the gaps in her teeth.

Her final exit would not have won any points for technical execution. With the awkward position of her body, she was forced to hook her feet over the lip of the fissure and use the firm grip of her left hand to drag the rest of her weight from the hole. Shepard flopped free with an involuntary grunt escaping her lips. Much like a fish dumped from a net, she lay gasping for breath on the cold, slightly damp earth. Although the forest canopy overheard was thickly woven, thin shafts of moonlight drove through the gaps and bathed her body in a white light.

Shepard lost all trace of time as she lay, simply revelling in the motions of breathing. At some point she closed her eyes and wandered along the cusp between waking and dreaming. A part of her expected to hear shouts and gunshots in the distance, but there was only the quiet rumble of the river somewhere down below her. The danger was not present enough to spur her to action.

"Evan, you need to move."

A light laugh bubbled from her belly, shaking her entire body. It hurt, but Shepard didn't care. "You choose now to make an appearance? I could've used you while I was clawing my way out of that hole."

"Strictly speaking, I am not making an appearance," Liara replied with very little compassion evident in her voice. "And you seem to have managed to drag yourself out of that hole without my help."

"Fine, go away and let me sleep then," Shepard mumbled.

"I cannot do that." Liara's tone was heavy with disapproval.

Although she could not see her, Shepard could easily picture Liara shaking her head stubbornly. It was annoying beyond belief, and yet reassuring at the same time. Still, she was the escaped prisoner with the gunshot wound. She felt like feeling sorry for herself and being an arse. "Why?" Shepard demanded, making no effort to try and move her exhausted body.

The very clear sound of Liara's sigh reached her ears. "Because I love you."

"Shit," Shepard whispered in response. _Checkmate_. Before she said anything else she went through the motions of hauling her body up into a sitting position. When she opened her eyes the entire scene in front of her swayed as though it was on a colossal topsy-turvy. She blinked a few times and it helped a little. "I guess that means I have to make an effort."

"Yes, it does," Liara said tersely.

For about sixty seconds, Shepard acted with the same determination and decisiveness that had seen her claw her way out of the cave. She managed to stand and make her feet work sufficiently to manage a brisk walk away from the river as though she knew exactly where she was going. However, she eventually paused and studied her surroundings with a confused frown.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she said in a small voice. Her gaze jerked left and right but the same sight stretched in every direction – darkness and shadows. There was no sign of Liara, not even at the fringes of her vision. "Where am I supposed to go?"

This time there was no answer. Shepard drew her jacket tightly around her shivering body and continued walking in the same direction. Liara had left her alone again.

 


	13. A Neatly Punched Hole

**A/N:** There are references to non-consensual sex in the following chapter, as well as disturbing inferences which I promise will be resolved in due course without drawing it out.

* * *

 

**Alberta Wilds, Canada**

_Ash is going to be pissed,_ Miranda told herself in a worried internal voice. She traced an absent-minded pattern over the N7 Hurricane clipped into the weapon-holder beside her. _So, so pissed._ She even suffered a brief bout of panic when her mind turned to the worst possible reaction Ash could have had in response to the lies in her concise message. _I'm not ready for this relationship to be over…not now, or at any stage in the future_. Even as the shuttle bucked violently and she slammed her head against the bulkhead beside her, she could think of nothing else.

"Miranda, are you okay?" Liara's question interrupted her train of thought. "You look pale."

"Fine," Miranda replied tersely.

She suddenly felt claustrophobic. The tiny shuttle had no viewing ports, so she closed her eyes instead.

As the shuttle bounced its way across North American airspace, Miranda's thoughts inexplicably wandered to her childhood. Although the period in her life could not remotely be labelled idyllic, she could not deny that Henry Lawson had provided with the best of everything. Her living environment had been carefully designed before her birth to reflect the pinnacle of functionality and pleasing aesthetics. Even so, it had been a prison disguised as a home. Miranda could not remember a time when she did not have tutors. There had been a trio with five doctorates and not an ounce of empathy between them. At the age of five, a combat instructor had been introduced – an ex ICT candidate who would have frightened most children simply by looking at them. Her diet did not deviate from a prescribed nutritional programme. Provided she performed optimally in all aspects of instruction, Miranda had almost everything she asked for. At an early age she learned which requests would be granted and which would be ignored. New clothes, shoes and innovative educational toys were approved. Frivolous gadgets and a puppy were not. While she felt _something_ at the denial of her requests, it was not anger or distress. It was only when she was older, as she caught brief glimpses of other children from the sealed environment of her chauffeured car, that she realised it was envy. Despite everything she had, Miranda had been envious of the children playing in the street with their friends. The topic of envy subsequently arose on numerous occasions with her therapist. The woman's eventual response to her incessant questions was simply that some people were simply born to be better than others, and that was the last of the matter.

Numerous high-ranking officers within Cerberus had been of the same opinion about humanity's role in the Galaxy. Humans were simply destined to play a dominant role on the galactic stage, as evidenced by their dramatic contribution in the brief decades since First Contact. The fact that they had constantly been stymied and treated like children by some of the established races had contributed to a growing sense of discontent within both the Alliance and the civilian government. While Miranda had been aware of its presence, she had not realised the extent to which such viewpoints had infiltrated all levels of society until her discussions with Liara and Hannah Shepard. While she knew it was ridiculous, she could not help but create an analogy with her own situation. Perhaps if she had simply been given the damn puppy, she would not have rebelled so spectacularly.

The facile contemplations were very quickly stifled soon after they arose. This was not the time to lament her shitty childhood. Miranda turned her attention toward double-checking the bindings on her armour. As she stood, the shuttle yet again bucked violently beneath her and she was forced to clutch for the nearest support. There was a loud thump behind her as David Codrington was thrown from the bench on which he had been sleeping. Even though the civilian was clad in his own set of armour, he was decidedly unconvincing as he struggled to haul himself to his feet.

"Christ, mate!" he bellowed toward the cockpit. "You're bloody well doing that on purpose."

Mack turned over his shoulder with barely concealed amusement on his craggy features. "Can't help it that the controls on this thing are more sensitive than my first wife's tits. I did tell you to strap yourself in."

Miranda had to admit that the handling properties of Liara's small shuttle left a lot to be desired. It reacted to even the smallest amounts of turbulence, making the far larger Cerberus shuttles and Alliance Kodiaks feel luxurious in comparison. Still, the craft's limited stealth capabilities more than made up for its poor handling and cramped interior.

As David settled himself back on the bench, he muttered under his breath as he pulled a set of restraints over his bulky frame. Up front in the cockpit, Pericles Macklin was currently withering under the dagger-like glare of Hannah Shepard – probably in response to the comment about his 'first wife's tits.' Although Miranda had done her best not to notice or care, she had been forced to witness Mack's persistent flirting with the Rear-Admiral on several occasions.

Once the shuttle had levelled out, Miranda resumed tightening the bindings on her armour. Although she could comfortably manage each strap on her own, she suddenly felt an uninvited pair of hands adjusting the straps on her back.

"You know, it's not the first set of armour I've ever worn," Miranda commented, unable to keep a trace of annoyance from her voice.

"I know," Liara replied as she made no move to stop her efforts. "But it is difficult to get the ceramic plates on this model to sit comfortably." Her hands moved to Miranda's hips, tugging sharply on the plates to test how snugly they fitted. "And since this set was custom made for me, I should think that a few adjustments are necessary to ensure a correct fit."

Miranda gave up trying to resist Liara's assistance and simply raised and lowered her limbs as bidden.

"It's a nice suit." Miranda felt driven to say something. Even though they were hardly in silence as the shuttle lacked noise dampeners, she found the whole situation awkward. At least the comment made sense. With power recharging nodes and in-built tech armour, it was as though the suit had been tailor-made for her. In fact, each suit worn by their team was top of the line. "All this gear, the shuttle - where did you find the credits for this sort of tech?"

"I have…resources," Liara replied evasively.

"And an N7 Hurricane?" It had been sitting amidst the small arsenal of weapons on-board the shuttle. Miranda had naturally gravitated toward the SMG she had used on Alcyone. "I've only ever seen one, and it was Shepard's."

"It is the same weapon. It was amongst the few of Shepard's possessions that I removed from the _Normandy,”_ Liara admitted. She slapped Miranda on the shoulder. “You are good to go."

"But for all your resources, this is the best help you could afford?" Miranda asked as she turned to face Liara. She could not help but cast a glance toward David who had already fallen asleep again. Up ahead in the cockpit, Hannah and Mack were engaged in a heated debate.

"I had not intended to offer you payment for your services, Miranda," Liara said quietly.

Miranda was annoyed that she could not tell whether Liara was being serious or trying to lighten the mood. With the gravity of the mission, she suspected the former. "I don't want to be paid, I'm just quite fond of living," she snapped in reply, her words harsher than she would have liked. _Even if my girlfriend dumps me after this is over._

Liara arched an eyebrow. "And how is the formidable Commander Williams?"

"We're not really doing this, are we?" Miranda demanded as she took a seat. At the questioning expression on Liara's face she continued, "Small talk? The last time I tried to have a casual conversation with you, you told me to shut up."

"Not in so many words," Liara murmured politely.

Before Miranda could protest at their awkward proximity, Liara sat down directly beside her. The cramped bench meant that they were jostled against one another each time the shuttle hit turbulence – which was frequently.

"Ash is…fine. Currently intimidating and threatening reporters from every news outlet on Earth, but otherwise fine." She exhaled loudly in a manner that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. "I lied to her about all of this - helping you to find Shepard. So our relationship might not be fine."

Liara had built much of her new life around lies, but she could still sympathise with Miranda. "I am sorry."

"So am I." Miranda shook her head slowly. "Don't misunderstand me though, I am grateful that you requested my help. Shepard is…"

Her voice trailed off as she was unable to think of an appropriate way to finish the sentence. In Liara's presence, anything that she could say would no doubt seem trivial.

The asari did not respond for some time. They sat, not talking, their bodies pressed tightly together. Unlike earlier, Miranda did not feel the need to say anything.

"Even if I had a choice in squadmates for this mission," Liara began. "I would have chosen you."

When Miranda swallowed, her throat felt like sandpaper. "Why?"

"You know why," Liara responded quietly. She deliberately met Miranda's questioning gaze. "It is the same reason that _you_ chose me to search for Shepard's body three years ago."

* * *

 

Although Shepard felt uneasy moving during broad daylight, she knew that she had to put as much distance between herself and the Alliance facility as possible.

_For all you know, you could be going in circles…or heading straight back toward that hellhole._

She allowed herself a brief rest – just a moment really – where she propped her back up against a tree and caught her breath. Less than a minute later, she forced herself to move again.

While Shepard was certain that she was not going in circles, it was possible that she was walking straight back into the arms of Dr Stone. She was operating purely on instinct and very little else – no sleep and a continually protesting stomach. There was half a protein bar left in her pocket, but she was determined to hold onto it for as long as possible. The one thing she did have was an over-abundance of water. It had commenced raining around mid-morning and had steadily increased until even the trees overhead provided little protection. While the jacket that Heller had provided was waterproof, her Alliance sweats were soaked through and the unfamiliar boots had turned each foot into one giant blister. Shepard could not remember being so uncomfortable since her days at ICT. Prior to reaching N6, the candidates were frequently dropped in hostile environments - on several occasions with no gear and wearing only civvies. The crucial difference was that failure then would have cost only her place in the programme. Failure here would cost her life.

_Although, back then, failure would have felt like dying._

An effort at a wry smile faltered on her face. She had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted the N7 designation. N1 through to N6 had been gruelling, but her confidence had remained intact throughout. It was only with the end in sight that she began to doubt her abilities as a Special Forces operative.

With nothing but ominous grey clouds visible between the gaps in the canopy overhead, it was difficult for Shepard to gauge the time of day. She estimated that it was approaching early evening, but it could just as easily have been mid-afternoon. Twice during the day she had heard the unmistakable sound of a Kodiak drop shuttle. Although both had been some distance from her position, she had not dared move until they had passed. Shepard could only hope that the poor visibility hampered the Alliance's search instruments.

_It's probably a good thing that my body heat is virtually non-existent._ Shepard knew she'd be dead if that was truly the case, but she was nevertheless chilled to the bone. It was one of the reasons she did not dare rest for more than a minute in case her body temperature dropped even further.

"It's fucking freezing," she muttered aloud.

It was the first time she'd spoken since Liara's presence had left. It was an effort just to force the words between her teeth.

A few moments later Shepard felt as though she had hit a wall. It was as though uttering the three words had sapped the last remnants of her strength. She felt her legs seize up to the point where it was difficult to simply place one foot in front of the other. Although she knew that her body was trying to tell her something, Shepard stubbornly pushed onward. It was only when she heard a third shuttle overheard, that she dropped beneath a fallen tree and lay motionless. Her breath misted into rapid but weak wisps in front of her face as she waited for the sound to pass.

_That's not a Kodiak._ Shepard was surprised that her mind was still functioning at that level, especially when her eyelids began to grow heavy.

"Shit."

Her own voice jerked her back to wakefulness, but it was only the desperate kind of forced consciousness. _You're not stopping until dark, Ev. Another couple of hours and then you can curl up in some cozy little hole._ She reached into her pocket and withdrew the remnants of the protein bar. One careful bite was all she allowed herself. As she chewed slowly and deliberately, she tried to summon the energy that would drive her back to her feet. It never came.

* * *

 

"Stay with the shuttle," David growled aloud as he slapped his palm against the console of the offending vehicle. It felt good to give voice to his frustrations. "Stay with the bloody shuttle?"

He knew that Dr T'Soni's instructions had come only out of the best intentions to keep him safe, but that did not improve his mood. David was the first to admit that he was a piss-poor soldier at best.

Mack had set the shuttle down in a tiny clearing fifteen minutes earlier, branches scraping against its sides as he guided the tiny craft into land. The four of them – T'Soni, Hannah Shepard, Mack and the Lawson woman – had set out almost immediately, all guided solely by some sort of instinct that T'Soni seemed to have about Shepard's whereabouts. While he was suited up and ready to go, the asari ordered him to stay behind. Like some sort of liability. While Mack had given him an apologetic shrug, Lawson had merely nodded approvingly at the decision _._

_Bitch_ , was David's judgement of the stunningly cold woman.

Desperately needing some fresh air, David extricated himself from the pilot's chair. He dimly remembered being told to remain inside the shuttle, but felt a juvenile thrill of rebellion as he slammed his palm against the door mechanism. A misty, damp scene greeted him as the shuttle door opened. David drew in a deep breath of the heady aroma of pine needles and damp earth.

_Smells better than London._

Although Liara's orders were stuck on repeat in his head, the assault rifle in his hands made him feel slightly invincible. The Mattock felt as though it could do some serious damage. On a whim, he tucked the butt of the rifle into his shoulder and peered down the sight lines. A few moments later, he snorted and tucked it back under his arm.

_You're like a little boy playing soldier_ , David chided himself.

As he turned, he lost his footing on the sodden ground. When he tried to arrest his momentum, he pitched forward. It was only when he was sliding through the mud on his idiot arse that he realised that the drop wasn’t as harmless as he’d first thought. With his arms flailing wildly, his only accomplishment was to lose hold of his rifle. It was all he could do to keep his grunts and squeals of fright to a minimum.

Several sudden, terrifying vertical drops later, David finally came to a halt only when his armoured body met a rock that it could not bounce over. Decently winded, he lay on his back with the insistent rain pattering a mocking beat on his flushed cheeks.

"I should have stayed with the shuttle," he groaned as he picked himself up.

Feeling nothing other than humiliation, David hoped that he could follow the path his bulk had carved through the undergrowth. As he turned to regard the cliff he'd tumbled over, he knew that there was no way in hell he could hope to climb it. _I fell down that?_

"Freeze!" a cold, harsh voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. "Move and I blow your fucking brains out!"

"I-I'm not moving." David instinctively lifted his hands above his head. He could tell very little about the person other than that they were female and they had not made a sound approaching him.

"Slowly take out your weapons and drop them on the ground."

With the Mattock lost during his fall, David was completely unarmed. He didn't even have a paltry knife tucked into his boot. "Um…I haven't got any."

"What the hell…" The woman's voice trailed off in what David thought to be disappointment. When she continued, the strength in her voice had faded. "Keep your hands in the air and turn around…slowly."

With his heart feeling as if it was in his throat as opposed to his chest, David made deliberately careful movements. At any moment, he expected to hear the sudden bark of a gun that would pre-empt his life ending. There was nothing other than that of his own panicked breathing and raindrops pinging against his armour. When he turned fully, his jaw dropped. David had expected to find an entire squad of trigger-happy Alliance soldiers. He found one lone woman. Her dark, wet hair was plastered to a deathly pale face with a nasty contusion on her forehead. Most of her body was concealed beneath a bulky jacket save for her legs which were clad in ripped, stained jogging trousers.

David's hands began to drift downwards - not because she wasn't a threat, but because he recognised her. "C-Commander Shepard?"

"Used to be," she replied in a now tremulous voice. David could see her blue-tinged lips quivering as a result of the cold. "These days…it's just Shepard. Who the hell are you?"

"David Codrington, I'm here to rescue you." It sounded ridiculous even as he said it. _You're not here to rescue her, you dolt!_ "I'm here with-"

The otherwise eerie peace within the ravine was suddenly torn apart by fire and light. David was staring at Shepard as she threw herself forward and to the ground. When he tried to move toward her, he simply fell forward onto his knees. When he glanced down at his chest plate, he saw several large tears in the ceramic plating. The trail of red leaking out of each was his own blood.

"Oh," he whispered as he toppled forward.

Seconds later hands were grabbing at his body, turning him over. David found himself staring up at Shepard, her eyes wide with fear and concern.

"Please tell me you've got some medigel, David?" she asked, fumbling at the straps to his armour.

He shook his head weakly. Another item forgotten. A soldier would have medigel – but he was no soldier. "You need to leave," he protested, trying to push her away with a feeble shove.

It was Shepard's turn to shake her head. Instead she propped him up on her lap to ease his laboured breathing without realising that she was mirroring the exact position they'd been in several weeks earlier.

_The tunnel._ When comprehension eventually dawned, Shepard let out a sharp sob. She recognised David's face as the one she had seen in the darkness. "I know you," she whispered. "You're the one that found me."

David smiled with red stained teeth. "I told her...I did something right. I told her…"

* * *

 

Although his eyes were still open and staring up at her, Shepard knew that the man was dead. He was little more than a stranger, and yet she felt as though she had lost a friend. A part of her knew that she had to run, but there was nowhere to go. Not now that the Alliance was this close.

When they came less than half a minute later, they had to prise her away from David's corpse – which they did without an iota of compassion. Two soldiers dragged her backwards and one clubbed her over the head with the butt of his rifle. Shepard managed only a weak cry in response. When the first boot thudded into her gut, she doubled over in an effort to protect herself against subsequent blows.

"That's enough!"

Even half-conscious, Shepard recognised the female voice instantly. It was the voice that had haunted what little sleep she had managed to snatch over the past few days. Dr Naomi Stone. Shepard couldn't see her through the hazy veil that shrouded her vision, but she could easily imagine the gloating smile on the woman's face.

"Lieutenant, find out where the hell he came from," Stone ordered, referring to David. "If he's got friends, find them and kill them. You two, help me get Shepard back to the shuttle."

Shepard was aware that Stone was kneeling in the dirt beside her head. "Thought you wanted me dead?"

"Trust me, I do, Evan," Stone replied – her pleasure evident in her voice. "But only after I've finished with you."

* * *

 

With every step, Liara was aware of Shepard's presence. It was almost as though her lover hovered just at the edge of her vision. Traces of Shepard’s scent lingered beneath her nostrils, but if she tried to drink it in with a deep breath it cruelly disappeared. Through the HUD display within her helmet, all Liara could make out was an endless sea of trees. Their uppermost reaches were blanketed in a thick mist that echoed her mood. She turned her head slightly and briefly caught sight of the dark shape of Miranda Lawson gliding across the landscape. The ex-Cerberus operative was wearing a helmet with a tinted visor, revealing nothing of herself that could jeopardise her Alliance career. Mack and Hannah Shepard were some distance behind – the mercenary keeping close to the Rear Admiral.

As Shepard remained tantalisingly close but brutally out of reach, Liara began to feel a sense of dread stirring in her gut. Her resolute assurances to the rest of the squad had made it seem like physically finding her would be a formality. Hannah Shepard had guided them within several miles of the Alliance facility, and she had picked out an LZ that _felt_ right. Now, with her feet on the ground, it was an entirely different game.

As every minute passed, Liara was drawn closer to the point where she would have to admit to her squadmates that she was wrong. They would have no means to find Evan other than to wander aimlessly and run the risk of falling foul of the Alliance.

_Is that not what you are doing now?_ she asked herself. _Wandering aimlessly?_

Liara exhaled harshly, her breath momentarily misting on the inside of her visor before it faded. She could _feel_ Evan. Although the emotions were clouded, she could sense enough to know that her bondmate's mind was ridden with fear and self-doubt. _We're both lost_ , she thought in despair.

The break through eventually came not as a result of her bond with Evan, but with the gunshots. A short, sharp spread from an assault rifle drove her briefly into a defensive crouch. To her right she saw Miranda make several concise signals indicating the direction and possible distance. Although her rational mind knew that she had to approach the source with caution, the flash of pain that erupted like a starburst inside her mind drove such thinking away almost instantly. Liara started running, continuing even after she heard Miranda's plea for her to stop. When she eventually made out the unmistakable figure of an Alliance solider in the distance, she lost her remaining vestiges of control and threw herself into a biotic charge.

* * *

 

Shepard hit the deck of the Kodiak face first. Her first instinct was to pick herself up, but her chilled limbs would not work properly. Even when she felt hands stripping the jacket from her upper body, all she could do was allow herself to be manipulated like a ragdoll. She ended up on her back, staring up at the only other person in the belly of the shuttle – Naomi Stone. In her mind, Shepard saw her fists clenching into white knuckled balls of rage and slamming into Stone's face. The smug expression would instantly be wiped from her face. In reality, all she was able to do was flex her fingers as Stone knelt at her side. With the jacket gone, she was clad in just her sweat-stained t-shirt and trousers. It wasn't long before her entire body was trembling uncontrollably.

"I must admit that bastard Heller was smarter than I gave him credit for." Just the sound of Stone's voice was enough to make Shepard's stomach churn. "I thought he was some bastard who got his rocks off by toying with his patients. Well, turns out he really did have a pair of balls after all…even if he was just another sad, delusional devotee to the cult of Shepard."

As she spoke, Stone had begun to run the tips of her fingers over the hollow at the base of her throat. The touch was deliberately gentle but left Shepard's skin crawling. Without warning, Stone suddenly moved to straddle Shepard's hips. She cried out as her weakened body protested at the additional weight. Stone laughed and wrapped her slender fingers around Shepard’s throat.

"You know what you are, Evan?" Stone asked quietly as she squeezed with ever increasing intensity. "You are a fraud."

The psychopathic bitch's words made absolutely no sense. Had she been able to speak, Shepard would have said that she had never claimed to be anything other than a simple soldier. What other people chose to believe about her was their own business. She had asked for nothing since fate had propelled her aboard the _Normandy_ and into the path of that first Prothean beacon on Eden Prime.

All she had done, every step of the way, was her job.

"I know you don't remember our night together on the Citadel," Stone continued in a monotone. "Well I remember that night. I remember every detail in crystal clarity. The way you stripped my clothes off – you wanted me so badly that I couldn't help but be flattered at first. This hot-as-hell marine actually wanted me. Who wouldn't be flattered? Then you threw me on the bed and pressed me down with your body weight." Stone leaned forward. "Much like this. Am I too heavy, Evan? Can you breathe? Well I panicked suddenly and asked you to stop. You acted as though you didn't hear me. Maybe you didn't…but that doesn't change anything," Stone whispered. She laughed pitifully. "All that matters is that I asked you to stop, Evan Shepard, and you didn't. You. Fucking. Didn't."

"Nnn…"

_I asked you to stop_. Shepard needed to refute the allegation. She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to focus, to remember. Between the drugs and her own faulty memory, that night on the Citadel was lost beyond her reach. Her damned voice wouldn't even work as she desperately wanted to explain to Stone that she had never used a woman like that. She was incapable of hurting someone in such a cruel and unforgivable manner. _I wouldn't…_

"I'm not hearing much of an explanation from you," Stone said in a cold voice as she leaned backwards, taking the weight from Shepard's chest. "No protestations of innocence? Could it be because you know you're guilty?" Shepard could not lift her head and she could no longer see Stone. Her gut churned as the other woman continued, "I know I should have gone straight to C-sec but I was just as drunk as you. I was scared that they would laugh me out of their office. So I held onto my hate for eight years. Have you any idea how much hate can multiply over eight fucking years, Evan?"

_What if she's telling the truth? What kind of monster does that make me?_

"And to think, after biding my time for eight years I was finally presented with the opportunity to repay you for the humiliation you caused me," Stone continued. "You were literally wheeled into the facility where I worked - helpless in front of me. The fates themselves could not have been kinder. They wanted me to have this moment."

Shepard suddenly felt something pressing against her stomach, biting into her skin through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. Even as it travelled upwards, she could not tell what it was – not until Stone was stripping the remnants of fabric from her upper body and waving the bloody tip of the knife in front of her face. Shepard was so numb that she had not felt it cut into her skin. With any luck, she would be too numb to feel what came after as well.

Stone was grinning. "I wouldn't feel so bad, Evan. At least you won't have to live with the memory of it for eight years-"

At the back of her mind Shepard heard several intimately familiar sounds – gunfire and biotic explosions. They were dimmed almost out of earshot within the cocoon created by the shuttle, but Stone's panicked reaction told her everything she needed to know. The doctor fell backwards, away from Shepard's body and onto her haunches.

"I still have friends." It took a determined effort for the words to leave her lips, but it was her turn to feel smug. "I'm not sure how many of yours will be left after they've met mine."

No sooner had the words left her lips, the sealed door of the shuttle was torn outwards with a brutal wrenching of metal. Both Shepard and Stone cried out at the sudden pain, clamping their hands against their ears in matching movements. While that simple action sapped most of Shepard's strength, she saw Stone scramble away from the door in terror. Although the sight of her curling into a foetal position in abject terror ought to have been a satisfying experience, she felt only a hollow emptiness in the moments before her vision clouded and everything went dark.

"Evan!"

The sound of her own name dragged her out of a comfortable sleep.

"Evan!"

The second-time Shepard recognised the voice. Her absent bondmate had seen fit to return – no doubt to offer paltry words of encouragement before fucking off again.

"Trying t'sleep," she muttered, keeping her eyes resolutely closed. Waking up would only force her to face the fact that she was freezing, in pain, and terrified of what she might have done to Stone.

Everything changed the moment warm fingers touched her cheek. It was the barest contact, more of a caress than a touch, but it sent heat flooding throughout the rest of her body. Her eyes opened and she drew in a grateful breath. The face that had intermittently haunted her waking moments filled her vision. Her sapphire eyes burned with an intensity that was almost frightening, but Shepard was drawn straight into their depths. Her lips parted in amazement when she grasped the reality of the physical contact.

"Liara," Shepard whispered. "You're real, you're here."

The fresh-faced scientist of her memories was gone, replaced by an angel of vengeance clad in black leather glistening with freshly spilled blood.

* * *

 

"Of course I am," Liara replied in a tremulous voice.

Her eyes burned, and yet the adrenaline coursing through her veins would not allow her the relief of tears – even at the sight of her pale, battered lover. Dried blood and matted hair surrounded a contusion on Shepard's forehead. Her upper body was naked, with a thin cut running from navel to sternum. Although Liara very clearly saw relief in her gaze, the underlying trauma was palpable.

A sudden noise behind her drove her to turn, Carnifex in hand, to address a potential threat. It was only Mack – red-hot Mattock in hand, breathing heavily as he leaned against the shuttle's ruined doorway.

"Hey, kid, we've secured the immediate area, but you can bet Aria's arse that they'll be closing in on us in a matter of minutes. Lawson has been hit pretty hard – stubborn bitch is insisting she's fine but she's not," he informed her tersely. "Is Shepard okay? We good to go?"

Liara nodded in reply to both his questions. "I'll need you to help me. Hand me that coat." She bade Mack pass her the discarded coat as he clambered inside the Kodiak. Although she desperately wanted to be the one to carry Shepard out of there, she knew she lacked the strength.

"Miranda's here?" Shepard asked through chattering teeth as Liara carefully wrapped the garment around her torso.

"Yes," Liara replied succinctly. "And your mother-"

"...the fuck!" Shepard hissed.

"-but we can fill you in on the details when this place is behind us. Mack, you've got her – please be careful."

"Stone…did you kill her?" Shepard whispered as she was hoisted into Mack’s arms. He lifted her as though he was holding a fragile package.

Guessing that Shepard meant the woman she'd thrown against the Kodiak's bulkhead minutes earlier, Liara shook her head. The blonde was lying in a dazed heap, her faint movements were accompanied by quiet groans. "Not yet," Liara replied, briefing smoothing her hand against Shepard's damp hair. The cold chill to her voice was completely at odds with the tender gesture.

"You can't kill her." Shepard tried to shake her head to emphasise her words. _Not after what I did to her_.

Although Liara had seen very little, finding Shepard half-naked and half-conscious had been more than enough to elicit a furious outburst. Her concern for her bondmate meant that the initial attack against the woman had been the only one. "Evan-"

"Liara!" There was a steel edge to Shepard's voice. Liara looked down to find a stark white hand wrapped around her forearm. The gasp on her lips was cut short beneath a withering glare. "Promise me!"

It was all Liara could do to offer a mute nod in response. Shepard held on for a few more seconds before releasing her hold. Mack whisked her out of the shuttle and back out into the rain without a further word. Liara followed, her brisk gaze took in the chaos that littered the forest floor surrounding the Alliance Kodiak. The bodies of dead marines lay as if they had simply been picked up and thrown by some colossal hand. Even the steadily falling rain was not enough to rinse the massive amounts of blood from the soil. Hannah Shepard was trying to help Miranda, even as the other woman was obviously protesting that she was fine. Her blood-soaked right arm hung limply at her side. The dark visor of her helmet masked that pain that had to be registering on her face. Eventually Miranda gave up struggling and accepted a hand around her waist.

Although Liara was all too aware that Alliance forces would be closing in on their position, she allowed herself a moment to simply absorb what her squad had accomplished. _Evan is alive and safe_. She needed to repeat the thought several times before she could accept the truth. Everything they had both suffered throughout the previous seven months was almost over.

_Almost, but not quite_.

Liara heard another weak groan from within the shuttle. In the wake of her promise to Evan, she could not possibly keep the promise she had made to herself. The knowledge of what she would do to her bondmate's captors had sustained her, fuelled the anger that raged in her gut, and she was unable to let it go so easily. Her Carnifex was holstered at her side, unused as she ripped her way biotically through Alliance forces. Barely a second passed between the palm of her hand pressing against the grip and the moment she fired. The blonde woman slumped to the ground, a neatly punched hole in the centre of her forehead, her blood and brain matter glistening on the bulkhead behind her. Liara felt nothing in response, not even a dull sense of satisfaction, but it would have to be enough.

* * *

 

Shepard drifted in and out of consciousness with the motion of being carried. Each time she woke, her reaction was slightly different. At one stage, she was too tired to give a damn about anything, wanting only to escape back into the calming fog of sleep. When she woke again she panicked, believing that she had been recaptured. The only face she saw was that of a weathered stranger. The reassuring grin he offered in response to her distress was so rakish that she knew immediately she was safe. Her eyelids felt as though they were tethered to weights drawing them closed and darkness descended yet again.

She awoke with a start. Panic arose again but Liara was right there. Shepard tried to manage a grin of her own, but her plan faltered when she could not make her lips do anything other than twitch slightly. Liara reached out and smoothed a clump of hair from her forehead. Shepard fought to stay awake this time. She did not want to have to stop staring at her bondmate. Beneath the relief and concern on Liara's weary features, Shepard thought she could see traces of something else. It remained elusive. Liara was too adept at masking her emotions.

"We are almost at the shuttle," Liara offered quietly.

_What happens then?_ Shepard couldn't give actual voice to the question, but it nevertheless lingered. Tendrils of doubt and self-loathing tempered the rescue and the otherwise overwhelming joy of seeing Liara again. _It's all over? We start the rest of our lives together with me as a hunted fugitive and guilty of doing…that to someone_. She could not even bring herself to think it.

The fact that the shuttle door had been left open caused alarm that even Shepard could pick up on. Mack began calling out for David even as Liara, more sensibly, tried to contact him via his omni-tool.

"He's dead…he died," Shepard informed them in a weak voice. "He found me…the Alliance found us both."

Her strength would not allow a more in-depth explanation, not even after she watched the obvious anguish pass across Liara's face. It was gone a split second later, buried by the need to act quickly. Shepard regretted the fact that the man's body would have to remain where he had fallen. It was like leaving Kasumi alone in the Collector vessel all over again.

Mack gently placed her in the shuttle's interior, settling her against one of the bulkheads before strapping her in. She nodded to indicate she was fine. It felt strange to be a mere observer as the rest of the squad moved purposefully around her. Usually she was the one orchestrating everything. Mack moved to the cockpit to fire up the shuttle, while Liara and Hannah helped Miranda on board. Shepard resolutely ignored each of her mother's pained glances in her direction, instead concentrating on her wounded friend.

"We are good to go, Mack!" Liara slapped the back of the pilot's chair moments after slamming the shuttle door closed. "Get us the hell out of here." The asari then strapped herself into the co-pilot's chair following an anxious glance behind her to check that her bondmate was secure in her seat.

"Can someone take my fucking helmet off?" Miranda demanded as she slumped into the seat opposite Shepard. "I can't breathe in this thing."

The shuttle began a rapid ascent with Mack not caring how much of the external paintwork he ruined. Hannah hunkered down next to Miranda to help with the helmet. A decidedly clammy, chalk white face was revealed a few moments later. Her raven hair was plastered to her scalp with sweat.

"For fuck's sake, don't touch my arm!" Miranda snapped as the older woman tried to help her. "Just get me a kit and I'll stabilise it myself."

It was only when Hannah put some distance between herself and Miranda's snarling face that Shepard could clearly see her arm. She didn't need a medical degree to tell that the arm was broken. She could clearly see bone protruding from the bloody mess.

"Slapping gel on that…not going to help," Shepard observed helpfully. Her voice was barely audible over the shuttle's protesting engines.

Miranda managed only a pained grimace in response. "Speak for yourself, Shepard. In your case, a bag over your head might do it."

"Ouch.”

"I’m glad you’re safe,” Miranda added, before her grimace twisted even further. “Where the fuck is the medkit?”

As Miranda accepted the medical kit from Hannah with her good arm and turned her attention to relieving her own pain, Shepard was forced instead to focus on her mother. As Hannah strapped herself into the seat next to Miranda, she glanced across with the same hopeful, almost desperate expression on her face. It served no other purpose than to make Shepard feel sick to her stomach at the memory of the woman helping the Alliance. Regardless of her subsequent actions, nothing could change the fact that she had the power to spare her the pain of the past few weeks.

Hannah cleared her throat. "Evie…sweetie-"

"I've got nothing to say to you, Hannah," Shepard interrupted coldly. She had no patience for anything the woman had to say. Not only was she exhausted, her mind was actively trying to process too much information. She thought about David Codrington – the civilian who had given his life to save hers. Although she didn't want to think about Naomi Stone, those thoughts came unbidden regardless. All Shepard wanted to do was fall into a deep, hopefully dreamless, sleep.

Her mother was determined to be heard. "Please, hear me out-"

"Fuck off!" Shepard snarled, momentarily leaning as far forward as her harness allowed. She found a measure of strength in her anger. "You're not my fucking mother so stop trying to pretend you are."

With her heart hammering in her chest, she collapsed back into the seat. She was gasping in deep lungfuls of air when Liara's frame cast a shadow over her. The asari dropped down onto her knees in front of her bondmate, concern writ plainly on her features as she grasped both of Shepard's hands in her own. Suddenly conscious that Liara was holding onto her artificial hand, Shepard tried to tug it free. Liara refused to be budged, instead tightening her grip.

"Don't," Shepard protested. "How can you stand to touch that thing? It's not my fucking hand."

"It is a part of you," Liara replied simply.

"Let it go!"

"You need to calm down, Evan," Liara said, pressing the crystalline fingers fiercely against her lips for a long moment. Retaining her grip on the artificial hand, she revealed a hypospray tucked into the palm of her other hand. Shepard did not protest as she felt it press against the almost numb flesh of her neck. "Goddess, after everything you've been through…"

Shepard's eyelids lowered as Liara's voice trailed off. As much as she wanted to stare at Liara every waking moment for the rest of her life, the demons at the back of her mind would not allow her to be grateful for anything that had happened. She felt the fast-acting drugs take over.

_All that matters is that I asked you to stop, Evan Shepard, and you didn't. You. Fucking. Didn't._

"I'm calm…I promise," Shepard murmured. "Help Miranda."

"I intend to," Liara assured her. "But you need to trust me when I say that you're safe."

"I need to tell you…" _Tell you…what exactly. That I hurt someone?_

"Whatever it is, it can wait." Liara stood and pressed her lips against Shepard's dirty forehead. "I love you, Evan. I promise I'll be here when you wake up."

* * *

 

Shepard replied in words that were barely formed and inaudible, but Liara picked up on the sentiment behind them all the same. She stood and watched patiently for a few moments as her lover's breathing evened out and she rapidly slipped into unconsciousness. It was only when she was certain that Shepard was asleep that she allowed herself to fall into the seat next to her. The weight she had been struggling under for several days suddenly seemed to be pressing down, crushing her until it became difficult to breathe. Between the swelling sobs and her gasps for air, the sounds that emerged from her mouth were not pretty.

"Hey," Miranda called out, pausing in her self-treatment. "She's safe. You did it."

Liara stared at the raven-haired woman through a watery gaze. She then turned to regard Shepard. The woman softly snoring beside her seemed barely recognisable as the confidant, strong marine she had fallen in love with almost four years earlier. Even as she slept her entire body twitched fitfully as though she was still living her captivity through her nightmares. Despite her own exhaustion, Liara dashed her hand across her eyes and sniffed nosily before she rose to her feet. She paused in front of her lover. Regardless of how much of her Evan was left inside that battered shell, she had not come this far only to lose her again. She bent at the waist and deposited a kiss on each of Shepard's eyelids. As she straightened, the sleeping woman uttered a quiet sigh and her tense limbs slackened.

Liara moved the few steps to kneel in front of Miranda, taking the medical kit from the woman's trembling hand and setting it on the floor beside her. Miranda looked as though she was on the brink of passing out.

"Yes, but at what cost?" Liara asked, as much to alleviate her own fears as to keep Miranda talking. She selected the strongest painkilling meds in the kit.

Miranda's expression was torn between a frown and a grimace, even after Liara injected the spray into her neck. "What do you mean?"

"After all that we have been through separately, will we still work?" Liara cast an anxious glance over her shoulder. "What if this has changed us beyond reparation?"

With a slight cry escaping her lips as Liara started to put a stabilising splint on her arm, Miranda closed her eyes and drew in shallow, rapid breaths.

"Liara, my arm hurts like hell, David is dead and Hannah has thrown away her career…so the two of you had better fucking work!"

Miranda’s breathing gradually evened out as the painkillers finally kicked in. She half-opened her eyes and smiled at Liara in blissful, drugged relief.

"Sorry, that was the pain talking. In all seriousness, you two will be fine. You're like…star-crossed lovers, meant to be together no matter what. Trust me, you're going to live happily ever after with gorgeous blue children…and a puppy. Promise me you'll get a puppy?"

"And that was the drugs talking," Liara observed pointedly. Miranda's enthusiasm – real or enforced – did banish her doubts. When she looked over her shoulder at Evan again, a relieved smile finally curled the corners of her lips. "We will be fine."


	14. Touch has a Memory

**Athabasca Facility, Alberta**

The clenched fists at her sides were her sole means of releasing the white-hot anger that flowed through her veins. It was a pitiful substitute for the real tonic – a satisfaction that came only from hearing the screams of the dying in her ears and the exquisite warmth of blood against her skin.

Captain Cristiane Alves felt nothing as she paused beside the body of a young marine lying on his back in the mud. She stared down at him, noting in a clinical fashion how his eyes remained open in one last look of terror before he died. Cause of death was obvious – his throat had been ripped out. Her gaze barely lingered before she continued to scan the scene. Other marines lay where they had fallen, limp bodies all bearing evidence of cause of death. Some had simply been gunned down by weapons fire, others bore the scorched and blackened skin left by a tech attack, and several had haemorrhaged from the inside out – killed instantly by a biotic explosion.

The loss of life meant nothing to her. She had stood in the aftermath of combat more times than she cared to count. Surrounded by scores of dead marines. At Torfan her company had been reduced to an embittered handful of survivors. Mewling fools had lamented the loss of those who had died, while she had rejoiced in the victory. The cost was nothing, victory was everything.

Alves scowled. This was nothing short of a colossal failure. Almost two dozen marines were dead and an extremely dangerous, classified asset had managed to escape Alliance custody due to a series of colossal fuck-ups. She glanced down at the dead marine again and lashed out with her boot, slamming it into the useless sack of meat responsible for Shepard's escape. The scowl was still fixed on her face as she turned and saw Fleet Admiral Kessler standing near the ruined Kodiak. Although she had no desire to be on the receiving end of another of his tirades, she trudged across the clearing to join him. Kessler did not acknowledge her presence immediately. Alves paused at the shuttle's ruined aperture, the twisted door was lying several metres away after having been ripped from its mountings. The body of Dr Naomi Stone lay propped up against the far bulkhead. A single gunshot wound to her forehead had created a grizzly halo of blood behind her. The Captain merely sneered. A large part of their failure here could be blamed on the woman's incompetence. Stone was responsible for bringing Shepard out of her coma, and for allowing a sympathiser like Bryan Heller to gain access. Other rumours had leaked out of the facility - rumours that hinted at Stone's proclivities when it came to Shepard. Alves was unimpressed. Not only had Dr Stone been incompetent, she also had appalling taste in women.

"That should have been Shepard," Alves commented, as much for her own benefit as Kessler's. She turned away from Stone's body and looked across to her superior. "If someone had the foresight to put a bullet to her head when she was lying in that tunnel, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"I take it you have very little admiration for the woman?" Kessler eventually asked. "Most would consider her a hero."

Alves snorted. "What has she ever done to deserve that accolade? She grew up cosseted and soft in the comforts of space stations and ships. People referred to her as a survivor after Akuze, but it was cowardice that saved her life. She was put forward as Spectre solely because the Alliance wanted someone who would be malleable, predictable. Instead she ended up being the Council's bitch. I lost almost fifty percent of my crew saving the _Destiny Ascension_ during the Battle of the Citadel on her orders. She traded human lives for the Council. I would have let them all die."

_I was the survivor_ , Alves thought bitterly.

She had been sixteen when the Batarian attack on Mindoir had ripped apart her entire world. Her eyes narrowed as the memories flooded back. It was instinctive, the images were etched into her consciousness by the lingering trauma and her own promise to herself to never forget what had happened to her community, to her family. Alves remembered the lengths she went to in order to survive. Even though her experiences had created a hardened shell, she still had to suppress a shiver as she remembered feigning unconsciousness beneath the rutting body of a Batarian soldier - biding her time until he shuddered and collapsed against her so she could stab him in the neck with his own knife.

_I clawed my way through hell until the marines found me. I was the survivor and yet they named her 'Spectre_.' Although she had only ever met the famous Shepard on several, brief occasions, Alves knew the woman intimately - as though they had been sisters. In a way, they were. They were soldiers cast from the same mould at birth and then separated by happenstance, shaped throughout the course of their lives by very different experiences.

She eventually realised that Kessler was staring at her with an amused expression on his face while she had been lost in her own thoughts. She had already said enough. Alves fixed a blank expression on her face as she returned to her customary demeanour.

"We need to track Shepard down and eliminate her," Alves said decisively. "I will take command-"

"Your enthusiasm is commendable, Captain," Kessler interrupted her. "Without underestimating her, Shepard is no longer a priority. I need you to return to Australia. The Athabasca facility will be decommissioned, and all personnel transferred to the Blackheath facility."

Alves had to suppress her surprise. "You're giving final authorisation to the Blackheath? I thought that results to date have been substandard at best? Given that the bulk of the research data was lost during the war, it seems unlikely that the doctor will be successful-"

"We have not supported the project adequately." Kessler cut Alves short for a second time and she was forced to clench her jaw shut. "You will see that the good doctor has all the resources and support she needs."

"And test subjects?" Alves asked, keeping her tone respectful despite her irritation. "I was under the impression that she was lobbying for Shepard to be brought into the program, against Stone's wishes."

Kessler shook his head. "Shepard was always too unstable for the Blackheath Project. No, we will need another key subject once the initial tests have been completed. The procedure is currently still fatal, but the Doctor has promised that results are only months away. I'm sure that the two of you will be able to find an acceptable compromise in that time."

A small smile creased Alves' face. It even went as far as reaching her dark eyes. As Kessler moved away, complaining about the lingering smell, she folded her arms across her chest.

"I have the perfect candidate in mind," she whispered to herself.

* * *

 

**Melbourne, Australia**

The one advantage to being bored beyond belief while the _Normandy_ was laid up in port was currently sitting in front of Specialist Sam Traynor – fresh food. With an almost orgasmic sigh, she cut into the lone fried egg perched delicately atop a slice of toast and watched as the golden yolk oozed out. Her patience lasted for only a few more seconds before she tucked into her breakfast, sighing again as her jaw worked around the glorious mouthful.

"Damn that shit was good," newly promoted Corporal Sarah Campbell gave voice to her feelings on the matter as she sopped up the last remnants of her own breakfast with a piece of bread.

"Kinda wish there was more than one each," Steve Cortez remarked from the opposite side of the table. His egg was long gone and he was onto his fifth slice of toast. "Are you sure you're going to eat that, Traynor?"

"Yes, every bite!" Sam protested. "I'm savouring it."

She noticed Campbell casting an envious sidelong glance at her plate and propped her elbows up on the table to create a barricade. With a grin, Campbell turned her attention to her coffee and the small cluster of crewmembers sitting at the other end of the Normandy's mess table.

"Look at them," Campbell said quietly as she nodded toward the new crewmembers. "Do you think they even appreciate that they're serving on _the_ _Normandy,_ sitting at the same table where Commander Shepard herself sat."

Sam frowned. "I don't recall Shepard ever sitting here."

"No, she didn't eat," Cortez agreed matter-of-factly. Tearing off a hunk of toast with his teeth, he joined Campbell in appraising the four replacements – just some of the new faces that had been appearing on the _Normandy_ over the past few days. "Maybe we should have invited them to sit with us, get to know them?"

"Who appointed you the head of the social committee?" Campbell demanded, raising her eyebrows. "Hell, look at those two on the end – they've still got down on their cheeks. How old are they? Eighteen?"

Even though she was trying to concentrate on her food, Sam followed Campbell's gaze and studied the two young men out of the corner of her eye. Hwang and Swift, both marine privates, did indeed appear young enough to make her feel like a grandmother. Both wore matching studious expressions beneath their equally matching close-cropped haircuts. Although both had graduated boot with outstanding marks, the _Normandy_ was still their first posting.

"Give 'em a chance, Corp," Cortez argued. "Besides, Petrova and Fleeting are both seasoned vets."

Although Cortez was trying to ensure that his voice remained low, Lieutenant Fleeting happened to glance up at the moment that all three of the old _Normandy_ hands were staring at him. Sam quickly returned to her egg and shovelled another forkful into her mouth. She did feel guilty that she had chosen to sit with Cortez and Campbell over the new crewmembers, but the truth was that she found the prospect daunting to say the least. When faced with the new crewmembers, her introductory sentence had died on her lips as she retreated to the safety of people she knew. Besides, if she was being completely honest with herself, she did not think that she would be able to speak in the presence of Gunnery Sergeant Petrova. The blonde marine wasn't conventionally beautiful, but she was striking…and so straight it almost ached to even stare at her. Suddenly Sam didn't seem quite so hungry, she glanced up at Cortez to offer him the rest of her egg, but found him doing his best not to get caught staring at Fleeting out of the corner of his eye. Sam's eyes widened when she recognised the shuttle pilot's furtive glances for what they were.

Cortez glanced up and saw Sam staring at him. "What?" he demanded.

"He's not bad – if you like your men tall, dark and handsome," Sam commented, giving the new marine another glance. Although she wasn't exactly the best judge when it came to good-looking men, she suspected that Fleeting's polished dark skin and chiselled good looks might make him an attractive example of the male sex.

The usually reserved Lieutenant had to stifle a grin. For once he did not try to steer the conversation away from his love life. "Who doesn't?"

"Traynor doesn't," Campbell added with a smirk.

"Shut up," Sam muttered. Although the comment was made good-humouredly, she couldn't help but dwell on the fact that the _Normandy_ had spent almost a week in port and she still hadn't managed to have a decent conversation with a woman let alone get laid. _You lied about that line of women, Lucy Park_ , Sam thought, absently wondering if Joker had managed to get his hands on a copy of _Asari Confessions 7: Feeling Blue_. By all accounts, it was the best in the series.

All three of them looked up when a shadow fell across the table. Sam met the challenging stare of another new _Normandy_ crewmember, Lieutenant Craig Kessler, as he walked – or rather swaggered – past the mess table. Although Sam had only exchanged a very brief greeting with the second of _Normandy's_ two new Lieutenants, Kessler had already managed to both piss her off and make her skin crawl. She'd overheard him make a disparaging remark to Hwang and Swift about the proliferation of other races that had been a part of the ship's crew at one time or another. His comment that the _Normandy_ ought to have been fumigated following the departure of the last non-human left the new marines sniggering and Sam's cheeks burning with anger. It was already bad enough that she missed Tali and Garrus without having to listen to the new Lieutenant's bullshit.

"That guy's a twat," Sam muttered when Kessler turned away to speak to Mess Sergeant Gardner.

"I thought he was our new XO," Campbell added. "Thank goodness he's not. I thought we'd have one by now – makes you wonder who they'll send us."

"Why break with tradition - the XO will probably be another woman," Cortez suggested with a wink.

Sam stifled a small groan. "Oh god, what if it is. What if she's hot?" Her food sat heavily in her stomach as she remembered her last bout of flirting with a superior officer. She'd made a fool of herself fawning after Shepard, she did not want to take the same route again. She pushed her plate across to Campbell. "Damn you Cortez. The rest of the egg is yours if you want it, Sarah. I'm going to be late for my shift."

"Oh hell yeah!" Campbell clapped her hands together, earning stares from the other end of the table and an envious glance from Cortez.

With a good proportion of the _Normandy's_ crew on shore leave, the CIC was subdued. Sam made her way through into the War Room, taking her time to enjoy the solitude while it lasted. It gave her the opportunity to finish the last adjustments on the new cabling system. While the refit crew had done most of the work, it had not been finished to Sam's exacting standards. She was sure that the time lag between ship-to-shore communications could be improved by as much as twenty-five percent. Even though the lag was already barely discernible, Sam knew it was there. Besides, it was actual physical work instead of standing at her console and she desperately needed something to keep herself busy. There had still been no word from Horizon regarding her parent's fate. Every day she waited for a miraculous message informing her that they had been spared the fate suffered by most of the colonists, but so far there had been nothing. With the necessary tools in hand, Sam slipped onto her back beneath the comms server. She was rewarded with a cool, blissful silence as she commenced the work. Sam was so content that a small grin even crossed her face.

"Can I be of assistance, Sam?"

If it had been any voice other than EDI's velvet tone, the interruption might have grated. As it was, her grin merely widened. Her good mood had her feeling a little playful. "Just keep talking, EDI," Sam said in slow, almost libidinous drawl. "Just keep talking."

"You have not specified a topic," EDI pointed out unhelpfully.

Sam laughed. The sound was loud in the cramped space, serving to remind her that she needed to do it more often. "Why don't you specify a topic, EDI?" she suggested.

A lengthy pause followed. Sam could easily imagine EDI's physical body cocking her head to one side as her processors pondered the most appropriate answer for the weighty question. "A significant number of new crewmembers have joined the _Normandy,_ " EDI eventually said, her tone unwavering. "Can you tell me how their presence…makes you feel?"

"Sad," was Sam's automatic response. She pressed her lips into a thin line as she reconsidered the response. "I suppose it's natural. There are changes in any crew, but I really felt as though the _Normandy_ was a family – granted an extremely dysfunctional one, but a family all the same. The ship doesn't feel right without Tali and Garrus…bloody hell, I even miss Miranda Lawson sneaking up behind me."

"Agreed." EDI's addition was terse, but her subsequent silence indicated that she was considering a lengthier reply. "Tali`Zorah was an efficient engineer and I appreciated Garrus Vakarian's attention to detail. I find myself measuring the performance of the new crewmembers against their standards. Currently, all fall short and I find it…less than satisfactory."

"We just need time to adjust," Sam reasoned. "Time to get to know everyone…or at least their names."

"My facial recognition software negates that difficulty," EDI added. "Additionally, I have instant access to the service records of all past and present _Normandy_ personnel."

Sam grinned as she continued to work. "Now we're talking. What juicy secrets can you share?"

"You do not have clearance to access those records, Specialist Traynor," EDI replied formally.

"You were the one that brought it up," Sam snorted. "I thought we were supposed to be friends?"

The A.I. was not persuaded by her protest. "We are friends, but that does not alter the fact that you do not have the requisite clearance."

"Fine, as a personal drinking buddy of the Commander, I'll just get my information from elsewhere."

"It is highly unlikely that Commander Williams would break protocol in such a fashion," EDI pointed out.

"I was joking!" Sam insisted. Apparently, EDI still had some steep learning curves ahead of her before she was able to fully appreciate even her unsophisticated sense of humour. "I'll just get to know the crew the old-fashioned way. Contrary to popular belief, I am actually capable of having a conversation with someone."

With her head and most of her torso tucked beneath the console as she worked, Sam's field of view was limited. She heard the distinctive sounds of approaching footsteps, but reasoned that whoever it was would either say hello or continue about their own business. However, the footsteps paused close by and there was a protracted period of silence before Sam sensed that someone was kneeling by her legs. The moment that she felt a hand touch the inside of thigh, just above her knee, her head jerked upwards and slammed into the hard surface above her head.

"Bugger!" she yelped, scooting out from beneath the console. She was rubbing her smarting forehead whilst she met the grinning face of Lieutenant Kessler.

"Specialist Traynor I believe?" he asked, one eyebrow cocked upward in what he probably thought was a jaunty manner. The dark-haired young man was hunkered down beside the console, quite unapologetic for his method of attracting her attention.

"Can I help you, sir?" Sam asked irritably.

"Actually you can, I was hoping I might be able to trouble you for a tour of the _Normandy_?" he asked expectantly.

Sam frowned. "EDI is quite capable of giving you a tour, and she can explain the ship's functions far more effectively that I can." Her tone bordered on insubordination, but her skin was still crawling as a result of Kessler's inappropriate touch. He remained unnervingly close.

"I would prefer the body to accompany the attractive voice," Kessler countered. "Not to mention the fact that an unshackled A.I gives me the creeps. How the hell has this crew managed to work alongside it?"

_There are times when I wish EDI's physical self was still around...and that she was a murdering psycho_ , Sam thought as she regarded Kessler with a thoroughly unimpressed stare. "EDI is a valued member of the crew," she replied diplomatically.

Kessler ignored her comment. "My tour, _Specialist_ Traynor?"

"Yes sir," Sam replied awkwardly. Somehow she managed to rise on her shaky legs without compromising what little distance there was between herself and the Lieutenant – even as he also rose to his feet. When he took a step forward, she responded by shuffling backwards. Her thighs pressed up against the console she had been working beneath. Her earlier good mood felt like a distant memory as Kessler placed his hands on the top of the console, one each on either side of her body.

A sudden, cold voice interrupted the silence. "Is there a problem here, Lieutenant?"

Sam fought down her rising panic as she looked over Kessler's shoulder to see Ashley Williams standing a few metres away, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes narrowed. Under any other circumstances, Sam would have pitied the individual on the receiving end of the stare, but she was too shaken up to even feel a measure of satisfaction. As soon as Kessler released her from the barrier created by his arms, she darted several steps away, and propped herself up against another console. It was only then that she realised her breath was coming in small, panicked gasps. _Get a bloody grip, Sam_ , she urged herself.

Meanwhile the Lieutenant turned to regard his new commanding officer with a casual grin on his face. "None whatsoever, ma'am. I was just getting to know Specialist Traynor. She offered me a tour of the _Normandy_ to help familiarise myself with the layout."

"You want to familiarise yourself with the layout of the _Normandy_? Look at a schematic," Ashley informed him in a taut tone. "But in your case I wouldn't bother. Pack your bags, Lieutenant, you've been reassigned."

When Kessler's cocky expression finally slid from him face in response to the Commander's announcement, Sam exhaled slowly and deeply with unbridled relief. She would not have to spend every hour of the day trying to avoid the Lieutenant.

"I haven't received a change of orders." Despite his uncertainty, Kessler's arrogance remained. "Where is my new posting?"

Ashley shrugged. "I don't give a fuck, Lieutenant - anywhere but the _Normandy_."

He bristled almost immediately. Forgetting about Sam, he crossed the distance separating him from Ashley in three angry strides. "I don't think you fully understand the implications of what you're doing, Commander Williams," he hissed in a dangerous voice.

"Seriously?" Ashley asked with feigned incredulity. "You're actually playing that card?" She closed the remainder of the distance between herself and the red-faced marine – to the point where she was almost stepping on his toes. "Wherever you come from, your family...whoever the hell your father is, Lieutenant _Kessler_ , it doesn't mean a damn to me. All I care about is whether you're the type of soldier I want at my side when everything goes tits up. I have already decided that you are not one of those. Now you'll pack your bags and get the hell off my ship. Am I understood?"

For several moments Kessler's cheeks bulged as he obviously fought to keep from expressing his true feelings on the matter. Eventually he straightened and gave his former commanding officer a curt nod. "Yes ma'am."

Ashley did not wait for Kessler to leave the War Room before turning her attention to Sam. The Specialist was determinedly trying to appear composed even though her face was ashen. Although Ash was inwardly stricken at what had obviously happened, she had no idea as to the best course of action. While she wanted to wrap her arms around the younger women, even for a brief moment, she knew that would not be the appropriate course of action. She felt stifled as she folded her arms across her chest instead.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Traynor eventually said. She relinquished her grip on the console and straightened, tilting her chin up an inch. "I ought to have handled myself better."

"You have absolutely nothing to apologise for," Ashley replied in a fierce voice. She uncrossed her arms and closed the distance between them. Instead of the embrace, she settled for resting a firm hand on Sam's shoulder. She sighed regretfully. "I ought to have had the balls to stand up to the brass – then this would not have happened in the first place."

"Ma'am?" Traynor asked with a frown marring her brow.

"I'm a fucking Spectre, Sam," Ashley said, letting her hand fall back to her side. "I supposedly have the authority to choose my own missions, and have veto over all crew appointments, but instead it's nothing but a hollow title. The Alliance has me on a string, dancing to their fucking tune. I don't give a shit if that man's father is the bloody Fleet Admiral, if it were up to me he would never have set foot on board the _Normandy_."

Sam ducked her head, thoroughly embarrassed that she had been the catalyst of Ashley's conflict. "Perhaps it was a misunderstanding-"

"There have been several accusations against the Lieutenant," Ashley interrupted in a level voice. "All carefully covered up of course." When she saw the expression of surprise on Sam's face, she expanded. "It may come as a shock, but I can push paper with the best of them when it's called for. I've been over every line of the crew manifest, every sailor's background, and between the lines. I'm not shipping out without knowing the men and women under my command. I'm just grateful that EDI saw fit to notify me before things got further out of hand. So no, Sam, there was no misunderstanding."

"Thanks, EDI," Sam said, tilting her head upwards as though she could actually see the AI somewhere.

"The Lieutenant was out of line, Sam," EDI replied. "If I still possessed my physical form things may have become...messy."

Sam actually managed a grin in response. "That I would have paid to see."

Quiet footsteps interrupted any further conversation. Before she turned around, Ashley saw Sam grow even paler as she stared at something behind her. Ashley spun to see an unfamiliar, dark-haired sailor approach with a nervous expression on his face. He had obviously run into Kessler during his angry exit and he was decidedly unsure of himself.

"Is this a fucking bus station? Who the hell are you?" Ashley demanded.

He snapped into a smart salute. "Ma'am, Lieutenant-Commander Leon Grenier, ma'am...um, I'm the _Normandy's_ new XO. Pleased to meet you." Grenier's lips twitched as though he wasn't sure whether to smile or not. He looked past Ashley to Sam. "Nice to see you again, Specialist Traynor."

Ashley raised her eyebrows in surprise. She turned to Sam. "You've met?"

"Yes, we have," Sam replied, doing her best not to fall to pieces. "Although one of us has recently been promoted...and I don't mean the hardworking Comms Specialist who is about the only crewmember not to have received a bloody promotion."

Without saying anything, Ashley gave Sam a level stare, silently asking her opinion of the newcomer. Although Sam was desperate that their aborted kiss not become public knowledge, she had to admit that her impression of Leon had been nothing but good up until the point where he tried to plant one on her. He had been almost as mortified as she had by his mistake. She responded to Ashley with an almost imperceptible nod. The Commander turned to regard her new XO but her face did not betray her own thoughts on the matter.

"Stow your things, LC," she ordered. "Briefing in my quarters in ten minutes."

"Yes, Commander Williams," Grenier replied earnestly.

She looked to Sam before she turned to leave, ascertaining whether she was alright one more time. Already anxious to forget the whole incident with Kessler, the Specialist nodded quickly.

As Ashley walked on ahead, Grenier turned to Sam with an anxious expression on his face. "She doesn't like me does she?" he asked as soon as his new commanding officer was out of ear shot.

"You're still on the ship," Sam said with a shrug as she followed Ashley. Although she had not finished her task, she could not face remaining alone in the War Room after what had happened. "She likes you well enough."

"I don't mean to pry, but is everything okay?" Leon asked nervously as he jogged to catch up. "You just look a little pale."

"Huh?" Sam realised he was staring at her expectantly. She responded with a taut nod. "I just...I'm fine, definitely fine."

Leon sighed. "I'm really sorry about this. When we met, my posting hadn't come through...and of course you never mentioned that the ship you served on was the goddamn _Normandy_ itself."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't exactly think I would be seeing you again," Sam muttered.

"You have my word that I won't tell a soul about the kiss," Leon promised.

Sam sighed and stopped in her tracks. "You just did."

"What do you mean?"

"EDI?" Sam called out. She tapped her foot impatiently until the AI responded.

"Yes, Sam?"

"If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will personally overhaul your voice profile and make you sound like a grumpy old man." _Although that would be punishing two of us_.

"I cannot breathe, Sam," EDI responded. "But if you intended to enforce my silence on this matter, then you have been successful. I will not share your secret, not even with Jeff."

When Sam turned her attention back to the _Normandy's_ new XO, she found him looking decidedly like a fish out of water. "What just happened?" he asked.

"Meet EDI, the _Normandy's_ AI. EDI, this is Lieutenant-Commander Grenier."

"The _Normandy_ is a hell of a ship, Specialist," Leon shook his head in disbelief. When he'd finished trying to process this first piece of information, he flashed Sam a quick smile. "I have no idea where the hell I'm going. Would you be able to show me to my quarters?"

Sam paused, unable to shake her earlier encounter, but eventually she responded with a tentative nod. She already knew Leon well enough to know that he was no Kessler. Her skin started to crawl again. Suddenly a shower seemed like the most desirable thing in the world.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Leon said as they resumed walking. "I don't want to cause you any embarassment."

"You've already apologised," Sam replied, almost tersely. "It's done. Friends?"

Leon smiled with relief. "Friends."

 

* * *

 

**Lanzhou, China**

The reflection stared back at her – an inhuman, monstrous visage that seemed to be the very embodiment of lust. Her eyes were glowing pools of orange reaper tech that seemed to burn into her brain the longer she stared. There were elements of the face she recognised as her own – her nose, the sharp lines of her jaw, and the curve of her lips – however when top lip peeled upward into a sneer, she almost lost that recognition altogether. Her own skin was almost chalk-white. It appeared dry and flaky, especially around where it had been split open by the hideous scars criss-crossing her face. The reaper tech was trying to force its way through her skin, creating an external picture to match the twisted creature within.

Shepard's entire body felt as though it was burning from the inside out - an inferno stemming from her core, seeking something to slake its rampage before she was consumed completely. When she tore her gaze away from the mirror she lowered her head to focus on the cause of her desire. Liara was spread out beneath her, eyes glistening and mouth slightly parted with what Shepard interpreted to be a need of her own. She lowered her lips to Liara's neck, both her lips and the breath that emerged from her mouth were hot. Liara's hands went to her chest, not caressing but as a means of pushing, trying to force her to break the contact. Shepard uttered a growl of irritation and seized both hands in her own so she could pin them above Liara's head, out of the way. With her artificial hand it was almost effortless to keep both restrained, it freed up the other to tug at the waistband of Liara's pants, driving down into the warmth between her legs.

"Evan…please!"

She grinned as her mind interpreted the words the way she wanted to hear them. Liara was begging for this, she needed it just as much as Shepard herself did.

Her eyes opened to darkness. There was a sharp cry of horror on her lips when she realised what she had been trying to do to Liara. Her stomach was churning with revulsion to the point where she thought she might vomit. The intense heat was gone, replaced instead by a chill, but her breath still came in heated gasps.

When she realised that she was alone in bed, Shepard tried to calm her racing heartbeat. It had been nothing more than a dream. _No_ , she insisted. _A nightmare of the worst kind_. Liara was not trapped beneath her body as she tried to- _I've never done that to Liara, would never…_ Her heart rate started to climb to the point where she was hyperventilating.

A tiny, soft light winked on beside the bed. Liara's compassionate expression was illuminated. Her bondmate stood at her bedside with a concerned expression on her tired face. "Evan, you were only dreaming," Liara whispered tenderly. "You need to relax…breathe normally." She extended her hand to touch Shepard's face.

At the first gentle touch of Liara's fingers, Shepard instinctively jerked her head away. "Don't touch me!"

The protest emerged louder and harsher than she had intended, a guttural shout that caused her bondmate to withdraw her hand in shocked surprise. Repulsed by herself and her proximity to Liara, Shepard rolled over and attempted to put some distance between them. Her escape was hampered by the tubes in her arm and her own weakened body acting against her. The muscles in her arms and legs would simply not cooperate as she tried to extricate her body from the bed clothes and swing her legs over the side of the bed.

"Evan?" Liara's voice very quickly took panicked element. Her hand remained outstretched, but she hesitated as though she was fearful to reach toward a burning flame. She forced herself to remain calm but her main concern was her bondmate falling and injuring herself further. Miranda Lawson had been in the bed next to Shepard, but she had left a few minutes earlier to take a shower. Although her instincts were screaming at her to fold Shepard into her arms, she forced herself to take a step away from the bed and hold up her hands as though in surrender. "I am not trying to touch you, but you need to look at me and tell me what is wrong so I can help you."

Shepard had finally given up trying to force herself out of the bed. She was lying on her side amidst a tangle of bed sheets and tubes, her shoulders still rising and falling much too rapidly. "I just need you to leave me alone, Liara," Shepard whispered in a broken voice. It was the last thing she wanted for either of them, but it was all she could do to maintain her own sanity. "I'm sorry…I-I…please, just leave."

"If that is what you want." Liara was grateful that Shepard was facing in the opposite direction so she could not see the hot tears falling down her cheeks. "But if you decide you need me, I will not be far."

The soft sounds of Liara's footsteps sounded on the floor but Shepard could not bring herself to roll over. The old-fashioned door creaked as it swung on actual hinges. "I need you, Liara," she whispered. The door softly closed and she was left alone.

Liara managed only a few steps from the room before she stopped in her tracks and lost her battle with tears. To keep from falling, she pressed her back up against the wall behind her prior to burying her head in her hands. As she descended into sobs, she felt the cruel irony of the situation weigh down on her. The emptiness she had felt without her bondmate had almost eaten away at her. Now that Shepard was safe, that emptiness was supposed to be gone. Instead it remained, gnawing at the pit of her stomach. The fears she had shared with Miranda in the shuttle returned. She had only brief memories, images and sensations of what Shepard had been through since the end of the war. While David's experience had been crystal clear, Liara knew nothing of what Shepard had suffered in captivity other than the flashes of emotional contact they had shared through their bond. Her speculations were all she had – and her mind ran rampant with fears of tests, torture, and worse. Her anger mixed with her grief at the thought of what her bondmate might have been through.

"Woah, kid. You might want to tone down the biotics while you're indoors. At least amongst friendlies anyway."

_Goddess_. Liara straightened and extinguished the aura around her body that she had inadvertently summoned. She had not even realised that she had lost control to such an extent. Mack was approaching cautiously, his hands raised as though she might be dangerous.

Liara shook her head to dispel his fears. "I am sorry." She could not however stop the tears.

He stopped within arm's reach with a concerned expression on his face. "I thought we went through all of this so you wouldn't have to cry anymore?" he asked her gently. "As least not these sort of tears."

"I do not know how to help her, Mack," Liara admitted. "What if I cannot?"

"I guess I don't need to ask how she is doing," he sighed.

Liara tilted her head back and rolled her aching shoulders in an effort to find some sort of release. "She is hurting."

"I don't want to tell you how to talk to your own bondmate, but you should know you can't just slap medigel on some wounds. They take time to heal...patience," Mack explained.

"But...she will not even let me touch her," Liara replied in a broken voice.

Mack shrugged. "Then don't touch her. Give her some space, sit with her, talk to her. There are dozens of ways to let her know that you're here for her without touching her. I know how important touch is, and it will come in time, but right now you've got to move at her pace, not yours."

The sniff that followed was exceptionally undignified. Liara stared at the human through watery eyes as she wiped her nose on the only available surface – her sleeve. "You sound like a Matriarch."

The New Zealander grinned. "It's nothing more than the wisdom learned from decades of pissing women off, kid." He reached out and cupped her cheek. For just a moment, Liara swore that she could see a veil pass in front of his eyes as he stared at her. He let his hand fall and the moment passed. "Now go and get some sleep, before you fall over. Hannah - I mean, Ms Shepard – and I, will keep watch."

* * *

 

A sudden noise caused Shepard's eyes to open with a start. The groggy edge to her awareness indicated that she had drifted back to sleep soon after Liara had left. There were footsteps on the other side of the room, but they were too soft to belong to someone wearing boots. She remained almost motionless, feigning sleep, as she listened to the almost imperceptible sounds of cloth against flesh. A few moments later, interspersed with the slightly rapid padding of feet, Shepard heard a series of expletives all uttered in a familiar twang.

"Of all the fucking incompetent…fuck, does anyone around here actually have a medical degree?"

It was unmistakably Miranda Lawson. Shepard rolled over to find the raven-haired woman naked from the waist up, struggling one-handed with the clasp on her bra. Although her ruined arm had been treated and the wounds were hidden within a carbon fibre cast that immobilised it in a slight bend, it apparently made dressing herself extremely difficult.

"Having trouble?" Shepard asked quietly, slowly rising into a sit. With her earlier panic gone, she found that movement came a little easier.

"Fuck!" Miranda swore, losing her hold on the bra altogether. As she turned and glared at Shepard, she placed her good arm across her breasts. She was left with just a towel wrapped around her waist.

Unable to even feign embarrassment, Shepard made no move to turn away. The ghastly pallor Miranda had worn in the shuttle was gone, replaced by alabaster perfection marred only by an errant bruise on her left temple and the contraption on her arm.

"You know I've seen everything before," Shepard remarked in a deliberately bland voice.

"That was a long time ago," Miranda muttered, thoroughly unimpressed by her audience.

Uninterested in baiting Miranda, Shepard was merely looking for an excuse to get out of bed. While Miranda turned her back in an effort to preserve some semblance of modesty, she managed to finally swing her legs over the side of the bed. It was low enough to the floor for the short drop to cause only a slight jarring impact. The walk across the room to Miranda's side resembled a drunken stumble, but her legs worked well enough. She tested her injured shoulder and found it both sore and stiff, but nothing she couldn't deal with. Without a word, she took both ends of the clasp from Miranda and smoothly attached them. There was a fresh vest lying on Miranda's neatly made bed which she retrieved before using a gentle touch to turn the other woman around.

"Shepard," Miranda protested in an irritated voice.

"Shut-up and stand still before I yank your arm," Shepard said unsympathetically as she rucked the vest up so she could draw it over the cast. Miranda remained still, but let her feelings on the subject be known with a violent huff of air.

Miranda's silence continued through the indignity of being helped into a pair of underwear by her ex-lover. When Shepard finished helping with the sweatpants and hoodie she saw that her creamy cheeks carried more than a hint of red. It disappeared rapidly, especially as Miranda turned the tables on Shepard – casting a physician's eye over her wasted body, most of which was visible beneath the thin gown she wore.

"How do I look?" Shepard asked quietly. She felt like shit, but that had nothing to do with her physical wounds.

The response was carefully considered. "Different," Miranda eventually offered.

Although she had asked the question, she was suddenly self-conscious beneath the other woman's scrutiny. She had neither desire nor opportunity to examine herself in a mirror following her escape, but she already knew that was not the same woman that Miranda had rebuilt from a charred corpse on Lazarus Station. Her body had been refashioned yet again. If it were possible, Shepard felt even less human that she had after waking on an ice cold slab to the sound of Miranda's voice and blaring sirens. She was also painfully aware of her artificial hand hanging at her side when it became obvious that Miranda was staring at it. Before she could make a move, Miranda stepped forward and picked it up in her good hand

"It looks as though someone…or something did a better job of putting you back together than I did," she observed in an odd voice. Not noticing Shepard's discomfort, her analytical mind took over as she ran her fingers over the white surface, prodding with her thumb and lifting it up for a closer inspection. "Somehow the Catalyst's substance has integrated with your nervous system, your muscular and skeletal structure-" She stopped when she saw Shepard wince. "Sorry, Shepard."

"No, I need to get over it," Shepard said tersely. "It's a hand, it works."

However, when Miranda let go, she consciously tucked the hand out of sight behind her back and turned her head. In trying to banish the damn hand from her thoughts, dozens of others flooded in to replace it. Foremost amongst them were the nightmarish accusations made by Naomi Stone. She could all too clearly picture the hate in blonde woman's eyes as she pressed down on her chest, pinning her half-naked body to the ice cold deck of the Kodiak. Venom dripped from her every word. The memory made Shepard's skin crawl. Shepard closed her burning eyes in an effort to keep from crying. _I am different_ , she thought, wondering what the hell kind of person had replaced the marine she remembered. When she opened her eyes, she found Miranda watching her closely, as though she expected her to collapse at any moment. _Shit, I must look like utter crap._

Shepard tried pacing to combat the ache in the pit of her stomach but her sole achievement was to tire herself out. Although she had been standing for only a few minutes, she needed to return to the bed to sit down. She would not allow herself to lie back down like an invalid, instead she stubbornly chose to lean against the edge to alleviate some of the weight from her legs.

"Liara's asleep in the next room," Miranda mentioned. "Shall I wake her?"

Shepard shook her head quickly. She remembered seeing dark circles beneath the asari's eyes. "No, let her sleep. She looked exhausted." _And I'm not ready to see her_. "Talk to me, Miranda."

The other woman frowned as she moved to sit opposite Shepard. "About what?"

"Anything…everything, please, just talk."

Miranda shifted nervously. She tried to cross her arms over her chest before she remembered that one arm was out of action. Unused to talking simply for the sake of it, she fumbled for a means to start. "So much has happened since you...well, since everything." Although the situation with the Alliance was undoubtedly their most important concern, she did not need to tell Shepard how far they fallen, nor how critical the situation was. "Ash and I...we're still together – dating, girlfriends..." The only person Miranda ever really discussed Ash with was Ash and she discovered that conventional terminology did not sit right with what they had become. She'd never actually been on a date with the marine, and 'girlfriend' sounded too ephemeral to properly describe their relationship. She changed the subject. "I did meet Ash's sisters, two of them at least…and I learned how to play scrabble." Miranda could have smiled at the memory. Her triple word score, Lynn's jealousy and Abby's resulting laugh. It had only been a few days earlier in reality, but it felt years ago. "It was almost painful at first, trying to be a part of something I didn't understand, but I think they actually liked me…and I liked them."

"I don't know what scrabble is, but it sounds painful," Shepard replied, feeling lighter already.

"I assure you it's not." Miranda actually did smile. She still felt slightly giddy with the amount of painkillers in her system and talking about Ash had suddenly caused her heart to flutter in an irritating fashion. "And I know this is going to be a little hard for you to process…but I enlisted. I do believe I beat your score at OCS by a few dozen points. Although, of course, that was before I learned that it was the Alliance who was keeping you prisoner. Somehow being a commissioned officer doesn't mean what it used to."

Shepard processed what Miranda had just said and her mouth parted slightly. "Let me get this straight. Miranda Lawson is an officer in the Alliance Navy?"

"Why is that so difficult for you to believe?" Miranda demanded indignantly.

In response, Shepard spluttered uselessly for a few moments. "It's just that you...taking orders and being part of a team? Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't really play well with others."

"It's a changed world, Shepard," Miranda replied in an honest, careful voice. "Nothing makes sense anymore. I thought that joining the Alliance would give me a chance to make a difference, but now I find myself playing for the wrong side."

Shepard knew that she ought to be able to summon some sort of anger in response to what had become of the Alliance, but instead there was only indifference. She was suddenly extremely tired. It felt as though she could close her eyes and fall asleep in seconds. _Haven't I slept long enough already?_ she asked herself. However Miranda was sitting opposite her with an expectant expression on her face. Shepard had to stifle the weary sigh she felt building.

"You're not playing for the wrong side, Miranda," she said softly, her head sagging forward. "The Alliance has lost its way. It needs soldiers like you...like Ash. Please tell me they at least gave her command of the _Normandy_?"

"Yes, they did." Miranda looked down at her hands. "Ash misses you. I couldn't tell her about this…all of this. She still doesn't know about you – that you're alive."

"I miss her too." The exhaustion pressed down on Shepard's shoulders. "But at the moment, I think the fewer people that know about me, the better." Shepard sounded surer of herself than she felt. _Then no one will know how fucked up I am._

Miranda cocked her head to one side. "Listen to you, barely out of captivity, still in your sick bed and you're already trying to save the world again-" She cut herself short when Shepard pressed her fingers to her temples and began scrubbing furiously. "Shepard?" Miranda asked softly. "Are you alright?"

Shepard suddenly glanced up and met Miranda's stare. She felt feverish. "I-I'm…not what I was, not the soldier I was." She tore her gaze away from Miranda's as she felt the tears return. "M-Miranda…I-I think I did something to someone. I hurt her. I need to tell Liara, but it's the kind of thing you don't simply forgive someone for."

A frown marred Miranda's perfect brow. "Shepard…Evan, whatever you've done, Liara isn't going to care. Not now and not ever."

"No, you don't understand. I-"

Shepard cut herself off abruptly when the door to the room opened. Liara walked in and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw that Shepard was awake.

"Liara, hey," Miranda rose smoothly to her feet and very quickly put some distance between herself and the bed. She cast a glance over her shoulder toward Shepard, her gaze conveying a sincere sympathy for a split second before she turned her attention back to Liara. "I'm going to find some food and see how long Mr Macklin can talk to me without staring at my chest. I'll leave you two to…catch up." When Miranda slipped out of the room past Liara, she did not witness the awkward silence she left behind her.

Shepard straightened a little. "Liara, I'm-"

Liara took several steps into the room. "Shepard, I-"

They interrupted each other. Liara ducked her head and winced apologetically. Shepard scrubbed at her temples yet again without realising what she was doing. She stopped only when it felt as though she was rubbing the skin raw. As the silence stretched on, she expected Liara to make some move toward her. However her bondmate remained standing near the door, precisely where she had stopped a few moments earlier. Although it was only a few metres, Shepard felt as though a gulf separated them. She desperately wanted to close it, but her fears lingered just below the surface.

"You were about to say something," Liara eventually offered quietly.

Shepard closed her eyes. That voice. Her lover's voice. When she opened them, Liara was still standing patiently whilst she waited for her to speak. "I wanted to apologise...for earlier. I don't know why I lashed out at you." _You're a liar, Ev. You know exactly why you wanted Liara away from you_. Shepard forced the thoughts out of her mind as she tried to concentrate on the stunning young asari in front of her. "You saved my life, Liara. While there was still a life left to save. How did you find me?"

"I will always find you, Evan," Liara replied, her voice little more than a whisper. She ached for the touch that would give added meaning to her words, but she stubbornly followed Mack's advice and kept her distance.

The longing in Liara's voice was thick to the point of being desperate. Shepard barely even needed eyes to notice it. She could hear Liara's nervous energy in any number of small movements - the tapping of her fingers against her thigh, occasional bouncing on the balls of her feet and the almost panicked breaths. Shepard tentatively touched the space beside her. "Will you sit with me?" she asked nervously.

A relieved sigh escaped Liara's lips accompanied by restrained nod of acceptance. It was difficult to close the distance between them with anything approaching dignity, but somehow she managed to fold herself down onto the bed beside Shepard. Although they were still almost a foot apart, Liara was close enough to feel the reassuring heat radiating off her bondmate's body. Liara continued to follow Mack's advice, content simply to enjoy their proximity. As difficult as it was, she ignored her compulsion to find the answers in one swoop.

Several minutes passed before Liara even turned her head to study Shepard out of the corner of her eye. The surreptitious nature of her action reminded Liara of the many shy glances she had cast in Shepard's direction aboard the SR-1. While that time seemed like an eternity ago, she felt as though she was sitting next to the same unapproachable human who had both terrified and fascinated her.

"You should eat something," Liara suggested.

"I should," Shepard agreed with a thoughtful expression on her face. "I'd like some clothes first. I'm getting a little tired of having my arse hanging out."

"I like your arse hanging out," Liara replied quietly. _Too much?_

Twin spots of colour appeared in Shepard's cheeks. She turned her head and their eyes met. Their gazes burned. "You would."

The tone was light, not quite carefree, but enough to bring a small smile to Liara's face. Something of her Shepard remained in that battered shell. "Clothes…then food," the asari said decisively. However when she moved to slide off the bed, she felt a sudden warmth atop her fingers. She looked down to see Shepard's hand resting lightly atop her own. "Evan?"

"Liara…I don't know what to do," Shepard suddenly admitted. "Even though I didn't always know what I was doing when we fought the Reapers, I was certain in the conviction that they needed to be wiped out, destroyed. But now…the Alliance – I know that there are good people amongst the ranks. How am I supposed to fight against that?"

Liara let out a tremulous breath. Her fingers tightened around her bondmate's as she turned to look at her. If it were possible, she appeared even frailer than she had in the moment that she picked her up off the deck of the Kodiak. Just looking at her, no one would guess that she was _the_ legendary Commander Shepard. "Evan...no one is asking you to."

Shepard just stared at her as if to say 'but it's what I do' and Liara was reminded of exactly who her bondmate was. Even in her present state, she was still Commander Shepard, the Hero of the Citadel, the marine who had sacrificed herself to save the Galaxy. No amount of internal or external scars would be able to change that simple fact. Liara wished to the Goddess that things were different. As she fumbled for something else to say, Shepard simply regarded her with a weary, resolute expression.

"You need time to heal," Liara cautioned her. _We both do_.

"I'll be here on Earth. There are things I can do-"

"You won't be here on Earth," Liara interrupted determinedly. "I have made the necessary arrangements. We are leaving tonight, before such things become impossible for either an escaped prisoner or a nonhuman."

"But-" Shepard was desperately trying to process Liara's announcement. Although she did not hold any particular affinity for Earth itself, the thought of leaving at such a time was difficult to wrap her thoughts around. She momentarily thought of voicing her disagreement, but she knew that stubborn expression all too well. "Where?"

Liara gave her a level stare. "Omega."

Shepard raised her eyebrows. "How the hell did you wrangle that?"

"Let us just say that the Queen of Omega owes me a rather large debt," Liara replied calmly.


	15. The Joys of Adult Entertainment

**Ysaan, Rannoch**

Although she had dozens of pressing duties, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy had spent an entirely unproductive hour reflecting on the intricacies of Quarian naming conventions. Rather than a datapad or a haptic interface, her tools were the arid soil of Rannoch at her feet and a simple dried twig as she scrawled her name in all its various incarnations. The words in the soil emerged as a life history of sorts, charting the experiences of her young life through the ships on which she had served. Even as she studied at the latest incarnation – Tali'Zorah vas Normandy nar Rayya – she had to sadly acknowledge that it was no longer her name. The _Normandy_ had ceased to be her home when she and Garrus had abandoned Ashley to return to Rannoch. Tali sighed and shook her head. She knew she had to stop using the term 'abandoned' and instead remind herself that Rannoch was where her true duty lay. However, no matter how many times she told herself that her time on the _Normandy_ had only ever been a diversion, or the indulgences of youth, it was not enough. The _Normandy_ had been her home. The crew – in all its incarnations - were her family.

Tali remembered the intimacy of the old SR-1. After having spent her young life aboard the crowded vessels of the Migrant Fleet, the frigate had at first seemed abnormally quiet and deserted. However, after accidentally bumping into Garrus too many times to maintain sanity, Tali had learned that there were not nearly enough places to hide. Although four years was hardly any amount of time to have passed, they had all seemed so much younger. She remembered how shy and nervous Liara had been - almost a different asari altogether from the serious, driven individual the _Normandy_ had rescued from Mars. Even Shepard herself had still been unsure of herself, still coming to terms with command of a starship. She had taken to the role as though she was born for it, but along the way she found time to laugh often.

In contrast the Cerberus built SR-2 had been the embodiment of luxury. As reprehensible as Cerberus were as an organisation, Tali could not fault their ability to design and construct crew-friendly starships. The amount of space was fortuitous as the ship had become the flying poster-child for inter-species relations – packed to the gunnels with eclectic individuals who ranged from criminals to highly trained assassins. Discipline had only ever been half-hearted, despite Miranda Lawson's strenuous efforts. With the threat of a messy death hanging over the crew's heads at every turn, the SR-2 had been a volatile microcosm of society. There had been sex – (Tali doubted whether anyone _didn't_ know about Shepard and Miranda), an abundant amount of drunkenness (she herself had been guilty on several occasions), and confrontations which had the potential to tear the ship apart (Miranda again! Her fight with Jack had reverberated throughout the lower decks).

Even when the ship had been under the nominal command of the Alliance (Tali always thought of it as simply Shepard's command), nonhuman races had been welcome both as part of the crew and as temporary guests. Tali had spent several surprisingly pleasant days catching trading war stories with Wrex. She counted several of the Alliance crewmembers among her closest friends.

Now she was forced to look back on those days. They were behind her. Tali scrubbed at the soil with the toe of her boot, erasing _Normandy_ from her name. Instead she scribbled Tali'Zorah vas Rannoch. It did not look right. Although Rannoch was her home world and she felt blessed to be part of the generation who won it back, it was not an appropriate name. She erased this latest incarnation and tried a different approach. Tali leaned back and admired her handiwork - `Tali'Zorah Vakarian.'

"Quarian conventions be damned," she announced emphatically to herself. Her words were punctuated with a very violent sneeze. She had been suffering a permanent cold since their arrival, mostly due to her insistence on taking her mask off at every available opportunity. Tali could feel her nose running behind her mask and her suit scrubbers working hard to wick away the moisture. "Bosh'tet!"

With a sudden impulsive determination, Tali leaned forward and released the seals of her right boot. She ignored the resulting warning lights flashing on her omni-tool as she stripped the boot off and the suit resealed itself around her calf muscles. With her pale foot bared to the elements of Rannoch for the first time, she left it poised above the soil. Only in her wildest dreams had she imagined how it would feel to feel actual dirt against her skin and squeeze it between her toes. She started to lower her foot.

"Tali! What in blazes are you doing?"

With the sole of her foot still inches from touching the ground, Tali whirled around to find Garrus sprinting toward her. Before she could utter a word of protest he swept her from the rock on which she was sitting and up into his arms. Despite the frenetic movement, she was acutely aware of the very visible scrawl in the dirt at their feet - her name linked with Garrus's in ways they had never discussed.

"I wasn't actually going to touch the ground," she protested. Although she was slightly indignant at being hauled into her partner's arms, it was difficult to ignore the way it made it her feel. Garrus had swept her up so effortlessly and was holding her as though she was fragile. The scarred Turian would have been the last person to call her that, but she found herself enjoying the attention. "It was just the idea that I _could_ touch the ground, if I wanted to."

"You could touch the ground," Garrus agreed. "But that doesn't mean you _should_. Have you ever had actual dirt in contact with your skin before? Do you know what will happen?"

"Well…no," Tali was forced to admit.

"Precisely. And we're not going to find out. Not today, not for a long time. I'll touch the dirt and describe it in detail for you," Garrus offered as he began carrying her back to the prefab which was their home. "Although having dirt under your talons? Not all that pleasant."

"You're really sweet. You know that?" Tali grinned even though he could not see it behind her mask. She had opted not to wear her new transparent one due to her red, puffy eyes and the copious amount of liquid streaming from her nose.

"I am not. Take that back," he demanded. "Besides, you might want to come in anyway. A new message has just come through from Traynor."

Tali uttered a small whoop of delight. "She better have included all the gossip on the new crewmembers or else!"

"Sterilisation first, then message," Garrus said, casting a wary glance down to Tali's bare foot protruding out in front of them both. He idly wondered if she was ticklish on the soles of her feet and grinned at the thought of her shrieking in response.

"Who made you boss?" Tali grumped.

"You did," Garrus replied with a shrug. His grin broadened. "Tali'Zorah _Vakarian_."

* * *

 

**Melbourne, Australia**

"Cortez, this is ridiculous!" Sam Traynor protested as the burly Lieutenant dragged her bodily into the _Normandy's_ elevator. "My duty shift doesn't start for another hour. If Commander Williams wants to see me, she can bloody well summon me herself over the comm. I certainly don't need to be dragged up to the CIC as though I've done something wrong!"

With the door to the elevator closed and her escape route cut off, Cortez finally relinquished his gentle hold on her upper arm. Sam stalked off into the opposite corner and folded her arms across her chest as she glared at her supposed friend.

Cortez raised one eyebrow rakishly. "Don't act all innocent with me, Samantha. I know precisely why you've been booking so much time in the observation lounge this week. I hope you remembered to close the shutters – we are in port after all."

Sam's jaw dropped as her cheeks darkened with embarrassment. "Of course I remembered to close – wait…why are we even having this discussion?"

"To prove that you, Sam Traynor, are just a little bit naughty," Cortez replied.

"We are not having this conversation," Sam announced with finality. She moved to stand directly in front of the doors so she could escape Cortez's company as soon as possible.

"C'mon, Sam. It's just porn – you were watching porn right?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny those accusations," Sam muttered.

"I'm not accusing you of anything!" Cortez protested good-humouredly. "It's a good thing. Hell, I've watched enough over the past six months. It's healthy-"

"I don't know what you're trying to do, Steve," Sam interrupted. "Because if you're trying to make me feel better or have a sensible conversation then you're failing miserably. Just stop it."

With a foul expression cemented on her face as the doors opened, Sam was unexpectedly greeted by a small crowd of crewmembers. Her fury turned to shock as she tried to take in the eager faces who were obviously all focused on her. Unused to being the centre of attention, she tried to backtrack into the elevator. Cortez was on hand to prod her forward.

Standing at the head of a familiar group of faces – Joker, Westmoreland, Campbell, Donnelly, and Daniels amongst others – was Ashley Williams. Although Sam was still in a state of confused shock, she did note that the Commander was actually smiling for the first time in days.

"Steve," Sam hissed out of the corner of her mouth. "Everyone is looking at me!"

"Crew, attention!" Ashley suddenly barked.

Sam jumped as the assembled personnel suddenly transformed from the lax manner they had become accustomed to over the past week into an approximation of highly disciplined sailors. Even Joker attempted to stand a little straighter, his image ruined by the wink he flashed in her direction. She remained fixed to the spot, hesitant to step into the middle of something that looked like trouble.

"I haven't got all day, Traynor," Ashley said impatiently. "Get your ass over here."

It was only when Sam approached that she saw the small box clutched in the Commander's hand. As she finally appreciated exactly what was happening, her nerves increased tenfold even though she was merely in the midst of her crewmates. When she stopped in front of Ashley, she realised that she was actually trembling with a combination of anticipation and nerves.

"I don't know why the hell it took them so long, but your promotion has come through," Ashley said, lowering her voice so she was speaking just to Sam. Without further ceremony, she withdrew the small collar device out of its box and proceeded to pin it onto Sam's uniform. "Congratulations, Operations Chief Traynor."

"Chief Traynor?" Sam murmured as Ashley stepped back to admire her handiwork. "There are responsibilities that come with that aren't there?"

"Damn straight, you're not going to be able to hide behind that console of yours any longer," Ashley informed her bluntly. "There's real work to be done. Do you want me to take that badge back?"

Even though she knew the offer wasn't actually a serious option, Sam wistfully considered this suggestion. Her console was a duty she understood and an environment that she had control over. To contemplate other duties seemed a terrifying prospect. Still, 'Ops Chief Traynor' had a damn good ring to it. _Chief Traynor_ , Sam mused internally, trying to keep a straight face. _What's up, OC?_ _Nothing much, just wearing my new badge, being a Chief and all that. Shit, does this mean I have to improve my field skills?_

"No, ma'am," Sam eventually replied with a decisive shake of her head. Regardless of whether she had to learn to shoot straight, she wanted the promotion. "Thank you, Commander."

"Your parents would have been damn proud," Ashley said quietly.

Sam lifted her hand to her collar and ran her fingers tentatively over the metal device. "Surprised mostly," she said knowingly. "But yes."

The crew then uniformly snapped into a salute upon Ashley's command. As soon as their hands dropped back to their sides, the formal ceremony was over and they swarmed forward to congratulate the _Normandy's_ newest warrant officer. Although Sam was grateful to receive their well-meaning words, she was slightly overwhelmed. When they began filtering back to their duties, she breathed a sigh of relief that she was out of the spotlight.

"I'm sorry about the pretence, Traynor," Cortez offered. He was one of the last to leave. "The Commander said to make it convincing."

"So you took her literally?" Sam replied. "I think I have marks on my arm in the exact shape of your fingers."

"So the hard-working Comms Specialist finally gets her dues," Grenier added.

Sam had not even realised that the XO had been a party to the ceremony until he stepped forward. No doubt he had not wanted to intrude on the old guard. Although Grenier had been on the ship for less than a day, he already seemed to be well-liked by both the old crew and the new. Following their first briefing, even Commander Williams had given him a temporary seal of approval - with her final decision pending until she saw him in action. Although a part of Sam still wanted to dislike the LC for the embarrassing misunderstanding between them, she could not find fault with him. Grenier was aggravatingly perfect. Even Cortez, who was usually difficult to win over, thought that the new XO was 'a good sort.'

Although Sam had dimly been aware of EDI announcing a new shore party coming aboard, she had dismissed it as further _Normandy_ crewmembers returning to the ship. It was only when she turned and saw an unfamiliar servicewoman approaching the Commander that she paid any attention. The newcomer was wearing the uniform of a medical technician.

“Permission to come aboard, ma'am?" she said as she snapped to attention in front of Ashley

"Who the bloody hell is that?" Sam hissed to Cortez.

The slender, dark-haired young woman was striking - in the prim, extremely well-groomed manner of someone who looked as though they had never put a toe out of place in their life. Not a stereotypical marine. Sam couldn’t stop staring.

"Permission granted," Ashley replied formally. Her face suddenly cracked into a broad grin. "Hey, little sis."

Sam's expression shifted to one of horror when she realised that she had been openly leering at none other than Sarah Williams, Ashley's youngest sister. As Ashley tucked Sarah into a warm embrace, she tried to find a rapid means of retreat from the scene of her crime.

"Hey, let me introduce you to some of _Normandy’s_ crew." It was already too late. Ashley turned toward the trio and Sam had to abort. "Lieutenant Cortez…Lieutenant-Commander Grenier, and Ops Chief Traynor. This is my baby sister, Sarah. She'll be hitching a ride with us to her new post so I want you all to be on your best behaviour."

"Ash!" Sarah protested. "You needed to stop calling me that ten years ago." The young woman stepped out of her older sister's shadow and shook their hands in turn. She smiled warmly when she came to Sam. "It's Sam right? Ash has told me an awful lot about you in her letters."

"All good I hope!" Sam squeaked, hoping that Sarah did not notice her suddenly sweaty palm.

"Reading between the lines, I think you're the brains behind the ship." Sarah leaned forward conspiratorially. "Which is good, because my big sister isn't exactly the sharpest...well, you know what they say about marines."

_No, I don't_ , Sam thought, absently wondering if Sarah might be able to enlighten her in private.

"Come on...before you embarrass the hell out of me." Ashley prodded her sister toward the elevator. "Let's get your gear stowed and let these sailors get back to their jobs."

Although Sam was doing her best not to stare at Sarah Williams, she reasoned that no harm could come from it so long as Ashley did not catch her. However, it also meant that she clearly saw Sarah cast a quick, almost eager, glance over her shoulder. Despite her wishful thinking, it was not directed at her. Sarah’s glance was directed at Leon Grenier. Sam glared across at the XO. Judging by the pleased expression on his face, Leon had definitely noticed the glance as well.

Sam scowled. _Bloody perfect twat!_

* * *

 

It was indescribably weird to have one of her sisters on board the _Normandy_. Ash had to pinch herself as she dumped Sarah's duffel bag on her bed. She turned back to face her youngest sister and couldn't suppress the grin that followed. To see her looking so happy and healthy, it was more than reward enough for the shit she'd had to put up with over the past several days.

"You weren’t exaggerating when you said how amazing the _Normandy_ is," Sarah exclaimed as she took a seat. "Your cabin is bigger than the entire med bay we had on the _Cambrai._ Plus, you have an extremely good-looking crew."

"Who's good looking?" Ashley asked in a suspicious voice.

Sarah grinned. "Come on, Ash. As far as I know you still like guys as well as you like girls. Don't tell me you haven't noticed your XO – he's-"

"A marine!" Ash interrupted sternly. "And an officer!"

"I forgot how boring you can be," Sarah replied. "A girl's allowed to look isn't she? Or is that against regulations too?"

Ashley uttered a small sigh as she folded herself down next to her sister. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I guess…I suppose Grenier is easy on the eye. I hadn't really noticed…"

"Because you're already in love," Sarah finished. She tucked herself against Ashley's body, much as she had done as a child. "It's been over eight months since Tom died. I didn't think I was ready to throw myself back out there until I realised just how happy you are with Miranda. I'm sorry I didn't get to meet her."

"Yeah, so was she," Ashley said regretfully. "Apparently she trounced Lynn at Scrabble."

"I would've loved to have seen that!" Sarah laughed. As they sat in comfortable silence for a moment, she reached into the pocket of her uniform. "I've been carrying this around with me for a long time. I think you need to have it." Sarah passed Ashley a small velvet bag done up with a drawstring. "You never know, you might have cause to use it in the near future."

Ash didn't need to open the bag to know exactly what it was. "Mom's wedding ring." She fingered the small band through the bag. "I still don't understand why you refused to use it."

"Because it should go to _you_ ," Sarah said emphatically.

A sharp laugh escaped Ashley's lips. "Sis, I haven't the first clue as to how to ask someone like Miranda to marry me. Besides, it's only been a matter of months. We've talked about spending our lives together, but marriage is an entirely different ballgame."

Sarah folded her hands over Ashley's, trapping the ring in her fist. "Keep the ring. It can't do any harm can it?"

"I suppose not." Ash felt an inexplicable thrill course through her body. "Thanks, little monster."

"Don't mention it," Sarah said as she rose gracefully to her feet. "Now are you going to invite me for something to eat in your mess…possibly via the CIC if Lieutenant-Commander Grenier is on duty?"

* * *

 

**Lanzhou, China**

Shepard tugged the leather jacket on over her shoulders. Even padded out with a hoodie beneath, it still managed to hang loosely on her frame. When she turned and studied her entire ensemble in the wall mirror, she barely recognised herself. It wasn't just that the clothes were borrowed from Miranda, she was so used to wearing variations on a military uniform that the civilian attire felt wrong on every level. With her hair twisted up into a rough ponytail, she had never looked less like a marine – at least not since she was in high school. The sole warning she had before someone else joined her in the room were a few footsteps.

With barely enough warning to turn away from the mirror, Shepard was caught with a thoroughly unearned guilty expression on her face. As she composed herself she knew she ought not to be surprised. Miranda had always viewed knocking on doors as an inconvenience.

"I see everything fits," Miranda Lawson announced as she looked Shepard up and down. While the clothes managed to stay on Shepard's slight frame, they were baggy in ways they were not intended to be. "After a fashion."

Shepard nodded as she took a seat so she could tug the knee-high boots on. "They do. Thank you. I can't say when you'll be getting them back however."

Miranda responded with a noncommittal shrug. Shepard's laborious attempts to don her footwear soon drove an exasperated sigh from her lips. She closed the distance between them and hunkered down in front of her former CO. Shepard was still struggling with the fastenings when she gently swatted her hands away. Having long since realised the futility of arguing with Miranda, Shepard simply let her take over.

As she watched Miranda work, quickly and efficiently even though one arm barely functioned, Shepard realised that the other woman had also changed. Although there were few differences in her physical appearance save for a more utilitarian approach to fashion, it was in her underlying attitude that the real difference lay. For the first time she noticed an air of humility – a trait she never thought she would associate with Miranda Lawson. Shepard knew that it was only evident because her guard was down in the company of a friend, but it surprised her nevertheless. It took her a lot longer to realise that the idea of leaving Miranda behind when she fled to Omega felt wrong on a number of levels.

After masking the worst of her struggles as a result of her injured arm, Miranda finished with the bindings. She tapped her knuckles against Shepard's leather-clad shin. "You're good to go."

"You should come with us," Shepard announced suddenly.

The marine Lieutenant glanced upward. Her blue eyes had widened somewhat in surprise by the time she rose back to standing. Miranda shook her head emphatically. "You know I can't-"

"I know you, Miranda," Shepard interrupted. "And I know you took every precaution to safeguard yourself when you agreed to help Liara, but we both know what the Alliance is capable of. If they find out that you helped me escape then they won't arrest you and put you on trial. They'll execute you," Shepard explained in a serious voice. She stood to further emphasise her point. "And you're planning on marching straight back to your post as though you spent your leave playing scrabble."

A small smirk escaped Miranda's irritation. "You still don't know what scrabble is."

"Anything is less life-threatening than helping break someone out of a high security facility," Shepard protested.

The smirk remained fixed on Miranda's face. "If I recall correctly, you broke yourself out of that facility, Shepard. We merely offered a helping hand."

Shepard uttered an exasperated grunt. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" Miranda asked with an arched eyebrow. "Arguing semantics?"

"Wha…I don't know what that means," Shepard muttered irritably. She made a dismissive motion with her right hand. "Stop…whatever it is you're doing to piss me off and avoid the point I'm trying to make. You're putting yourself in the firing line"

"You were right," Miranda admitted with a sigh. She paused for effect. "Playing scrabble with you would be painful."

"Miranda!" Shepard growled, remembering precisely how exasperating it had been to have the woman serving under her command.

"Fine, I do care about you!" Miranda suddenly snapped in reply, her tone equally as vehement. When she paused again, it was to calm her rapid breathing. "In the moment that Liara told me that you were alive I know that nothing would stop me from helping her to get you out of that nightmare. Not my obligations to the Alliance…or even my relationship with Ashley." She turned her back on Shepard to avoid meeting her eyes. As Miranda dragged her hand through her hair, she tried to talk herself out of admitting the one facet of their relationship that she had managed to keep from Shepard. She shook her head in disbelief. "I love her…" The words were followed by a deep breath. "But I loved you first."

Shepard's jaw slowly fell open. "Miranda…I-I…"

"Don't say a fucking thing." Miranda acted quickly to fill the awkward silence. "It's not necessary. You've got your asari, I've got Ash, and we're both as happy as we can be in this fucked up world." She lowered her gaze and studied the worn tiled floor as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. "Wipe that smug expression off your damn face, Shepard."

"I haven't-"

She barely had time to start her sentence before Miranda spun on her heels and closed the distance between them. With an almost furtive movement, Miranda cupped the back of Shepard's neck with her uninjured hand and pressed their foreheads together.

As soon as Shepard felt Miranda's breath on her lips, the memories of their brief time together came flooding back to her. She tried to swallow but her throat was dry. It would have been effortless to close the gap and descend into a heated kiss.

"Another time," Miranda whispered. "Another life." When the electricity between the two of them reached its zenith, she released her hold on Shepard's neck and stepped away just as suddenly. She regarded her with an indecipherable stare. "Be careful, Shepard. Omega was never the friendliest place to begin with, and I don't trust T'Loak one iota – regardless of whatever debt she owes Liara."

Shepard was still trying to process everything that had passed between them. It was apparent that her mind did not work as quickly as Miranda's. "Um, Aria…right. I know I can't trust her, but at least there's no Systems Alliance on Omega," Shepard reminded Miranda. Her expression softened. "You however…you're staying in the middle of the hornet's nest. You need to take care of yourself…you dumb grunt."

With the tension between them easing, Miranda arched her eyebrow warningly in response to Shepard's jibe. Her eyebrows suddenly lifted as she remembered something. She reached into one of her coat pockets and withdrew a small pair of black gloves. "I thought you might appreciate these…to hide your hand."

Shepard accepted them with a grateful smile. However before she could open her mouth to offer her thanks, Liara and Mack walked into the room. Miranda took another discrete step away from Shepard. If either Liara or Mack noticed anything amiss, they did not reveal it.

"Our transport is here," Liara announced in a calm, almost tentative voice. "Are you ready to leave?"

Having absolutely no possessions other than the borrowed clothes on her back, Shepard nodded. "I'm ready."

She tried to share one last glance with Miranda, but the raven-haired woman was stubbornly avoiding her gaze. With their goodbyes already said, Shepard allowed Mack to wrap an arm around her waist and lead her from the room. She overheard the start of a conversation between Liara and Miranda, and clearly picked up on the discomfort in the human's voice. It faded the further Mack led her down the corridor, and was quickly replaced by a more pressing concern. A noticeably anxious Hannah Shepard was waiting for her near the exit. Her hands were clasped, white-knuckled, in front of her. Tendrils of anger awakened almost immediately. Shepard felt her brow furrow and her jaw tighten in response at just the sight of the woman. She contemplated asking Mack to tell her to leave so she would not have to endure the awkward moment.

Mack felt the young woman's body stiffen at the sight of Hannah. While the elder Shepard had mentioned to him on several brief occasions that her relationship with her daughter was strained, it was not until witnessing it first-hand that he realised the severity. Although he knew emphatically that it was not his place to interfere, he also could not let them both suffer – not when so much had been lost already.

"She just wants to say goodbye, Commander," he offered quietly.

"I'm no Commander," Shepard replied in a taut voice. She was already tired after the emotional exchange with Miranda. The last thing she wanted to do was break down in tears in front of Hannah. "And I have nothing to say to that woman, not even goodbye."

A small sigh escaped Mack's lips. "Until you have kids of your own you won't understand the sacrifices a parent is willing to make. What I'd give to have even one moment back with my own daughter…well, there's nothing on earth that could make that happen, but you can do this for her."

The emotion coming from such a gruff voice surprised Shepard, but she did not offer a reply, not even to express her irritation at his interference in matters that were none of his business. Sacrifice – it was a word Shepard understood all too well in reference to both her own life and the lives of others. She had sent men and women under her command to their deaths, and she had given her own life to save others - in the latter case, more than was humanly possible. It seemed abhorrent at first to equate Hannah's sacrifices with her own, but Shepard forced herself to accept that she had given her everything. _Even if I refuse to believe it_ , Shepard thought, asking herself whether there was anything Hannah could have done differently. She studied her blatantly as they neared, observing the dark circles beneath her eyes and the pallor to her cheeks. Shepard did not remember Hannah being anything other than an Alliance officer. She felt a stab of guilt knowing that the end of Hannah's long career was her fault.

Although Shepard willed Mack to keep walking as they moved past her, she was the one who made the conscious decision to stop. Her movement halted, but she could not bring herself to meet Hannah's gaze. A part of her knew that, if she looked at the woman, she would either slap her or throw her arms around her neck. In not knowing which reaction she would choose, Shepard avoided the temptation altogether.

"Promise you'll stay safe?" Hannah asked. The uncompromising voice that Shepard recognised from her childhood memories now sounded so uncertain.

"I can't make promises I can't keep," Shepard replied before pausing. Although she did not regret the blunt words, she suddenly found that she did not want to leave it at that. "But…you know I'm in good hands."

"The best." Hannah smiled tentatively in response. "I could not have wished for a better partner for my daughter. Liara is...she's very special. I love you, Evie."

Shepard suppressed the scowl with which she instinctively responded. Instead she swallowed the thick lump of pride in her throat. "Goodbye, Hannah," she said stiffly.

"Are you alright, Evan?"

Liara's voice. Her presence was welcomed immensely. Shepard breathed a sigh of relief that the awkward farewell was almost over. She nodded tersely and gratefully accepted Liara's arm in lieu of Mack's, even ignoring the stab of guilt she felt at the extent of physical contact with her bondmate. She remained hollow throughout Liara's tearful goodbye with Mack, instead willing the asari to hurry up so that she could escape Hannah's wounded gaze as quickly as possible.

Although a large part of Shepard did regret leaving Earth behind, the concealed journey to Lanzhou's small spaceport could not pass quickly enough. It had nothing to do with the danger they were in from possible discovery by the Alliance. Shepard had long since accepted that Liara's Shadow Broker network was a fearsome beast indeed, even as compromised as it was in the wake of the war. She had complete trust that her bondmate's arrangements would see them safely off Earth. Her apprehensions were caught up in a desperate need to escape what had happened to her at the hands of the Alliance. Shepard knew that she could run away from that trauma. It was simple, almost easy really. What had happened to her was reprehensible, but she could file it away in the same remote corner of her memory that held the screams from Akuze, the silence of being spaced, and the darkness within the Crucible. These corners were not inaccessible, as her breakdown on Tuchanka had proven, but for the most part she could manage them. What she was incapable of dealing with were Naomi Stone's accusations. They remained like a leaden weight on her shoulders, even after they made it without incident to the small, nondescript freighter flying Alliance colours.

As Earth fell away behind them, Shepard remained in their tiny cabin while Liara chose to watch the planet recede in the distance. Although she was grateful for the solitude, she felt the asari's absence keenly. She closed her eyes and attempted to dwell on what had been saved. Most of her friends and family had survived the war. While they were scattered across the Galaxy and still in the dark as to her survival, she could hold onto the hope of seeing them again. She even dared to grin as she imagined exactly what Ashley would say. _You look like crap, Skipper_. Even more tantalising was the faint promise of the vision that Liara had shared with her prior to entering the Crucible being fulfilled – children. A family. Howeve,r when she tried to find and hold onto that vision, she found it buried beneath images of what she had done to Stone.

_What I might have done_ , Shepard tried to remind herself. _What I_ might _have done_. Looking back, she was not proud of the woman her younger self had been. If she was truly being honest with herself, then it was not difficult to imagine herself pushing beyond the limits in the midst of the downward spiral she fell into after Akuze. If a woman had said no to her, would it have stopped her from taking what she wanted? What if Liara had said no to her? Shepard squeezed her eyes shut, seeking solace in the _real_ memory of what had happened between them rather than some fiction.

Her eyes opened in tandem with the door. Liara stepped through and the cabin suddenly seemed too small to hold them both in comfortable silence. As though she was expecting trouble at a moment's notice, her bondmate was wearing an asari commando outfit - black with blue trim – beneath a black coat that swirled down around her knees. While Shepard had not thought to arm herself, she could see the bulge of a Carnifex at Liara's waist. Her entire persona was efficient and business-like. It was only when the door closed and her determined expression faltered that Shepard realised the immense strain Liara had been under. While most of their journey had passed in a hazy blur for her, Liara had obviously experienced every second in tense detail.

"How are we doing, Liara?" Shepard asked.

Liara deliberately chose to sit at the small table as opposed to the other end of the bed. "We have just passed through the Sol relay. I hesitate to...count our eggs before the chickens have laid them, but it would appear that the Alliance remained none the wiser throughout our departure."

"Thanks to you," Shepard pointed out, unable to resist a slight smirk at Liara's butchering of the human idiom.

The small curve to her lips was enough to ease the tension in the cabin. "I said it incorrectly?" Liara asked in response.

"It was close enough, baby," Shepard said.

The simple endearment slipped out naturally. Both noticed it immediately. Shepard bit her lip, while Liara ducked her head with twin spots of colour appearing in her cheeks. At any other time, Shepard would have teased her mercilessly and probably done something to enhance the colour even further. As it was, she drew her legs up against her chest and wrapped her arms around them to form an impromptu barrier.

Liara studied her human lover. Her body language made it clear that she was trying to protect herself. "We have a lengthy journey ahead of us with nothing but time," Liara ventured hesitantly. She still had the intention of practising patience, but she wanted to lay all of her own cards on the table. Whether or not Shepard chose to join in the game, was entirely up to her. "If you need to talk about what happened to…about anything, you know I am here for you."

"You don't even need to say those words, Liara," Shepard replied almost immediately. Her grip on her own legs tightened. "So…Omega?"

Liara was hit by a wave of disappointment when Shepard changed the subject. Guilt followed moments later. Although she had made herself promise that she would give Shepard time, the burning need to have her bondmate whole again was making the whole exercise torturous. Unable to force words out past the lump in her throat, she simply nodded.

"You know Aria hates my guts," Shepard pointed out unhelpfully. "The last time the _Normandy_ docked at Omega, Samara and I destroyed three apartments fighting Morinth. I'm almost scared to ask, but what did you do for her that makes you so certain she'll welcome us with open arms?"

"Aria does not welcome anyone with open arms, but – to cut a long story short – I helped her take Omega back from Cerberus control," Liara replied in a matter-of-fact voice. "Apparently helping restore someone to their throne, even someone as self-sufficient as Aria, goes a long way toward making up for the wanton destruction of some property."

"You helped Aria retake Omega?" Shepard asked in disbelief, her eyes wide with unfeigned surprise.

"And that is surprising?" Liara asked, a chill creeping into her voice. "All it required was killing a large amount of people…and I am very good at killing."

Shepard had to suppress a shiver. It was almost a though a dark veil had slipped over Liara's beautiful features. _You created her, deal with it_ , she reminded herself. "I know…and I'm sorry. I suppose I'm nervous about turning up on Aria's doorstep with nothing except my name, being entirely at her mercy. She was daunting enough when I had a military organisation behind me, now…"

"Oh, she will undoubtedly think that having you on Omega will give her some sort of leverage," Liara explained, effortlessly slipping into her Shadow Broker persona. "But you're not going to be at her mercy, Evan, not by any stretch of the imagination."

It was at that point that Shepard asked herself whether Aria T'Loak knew exactly what she was doing in inviting Liara into her domain. The thought and the palpable tension in the air were both banished a few seconds later when Liara's face softened. Shepard subconsciously lowered her defences, letting her arms fall and shifting so she was sitting cross-legged on the bed. In response, Liara eased her weary body out of the chair and made the two steps required to bring her to the side of the bed. She hesitated for a moment, remembering Shepard's terrified reaction to her earlier touch, before reaching out to cup her pale face in both hands.

"I will not allow anything to happen to you," Liara promised her before depositing a brief kiss on her forehead.

In response to the exquisite touch of Liara's lips on her skin, Shepard reached out to grasp the back of Liara's neck as she tilted her face upwards, seeking out more of that heat. A surprised gasp escaped Liara's lips in the moment before their lips met. The demons lingering at the back of Shepard's mind dictated that the kiss be brief, but the heated contact was more than enough for her body's previously dormant responses to kick in. When she pulled away, her breath was coming in light pants and she could felt a sharp knot of desire between her legs. For the first time since awakening beneath the streets of London, Shepard felt like a woman again – and the realisation terrified her. Liara slumped down onto the bed beside her and Shepard instinctively wrapped both her arms around her. As inadequate as her feeble embrace was, in that moment she needed to remind Liara that they were in this together.

"I promise we will talk," Shepard murmured, her lips moving against Liara's crests. "I'll tell you everything-"

"Evan, you do not need to make such a promise," Liara stressed, even as she allowed her body to mould against her lover's, folding her curves against Shepard's hollows and sharp, bony angles.

"I do," Shepard whispered in a hoarse voice. She felt her eyelids grow heavy as her weakened body betrayed her with exhaustion yet again. "Because I love you."


	16. Fabrication of Truth

**A/N:** This chapter contains a (brief) description of non-consensual sex.

**Melbourne, Australia**

An inevitable sense of alienation descended as she stood, very much an outsider, staring at something that had once been the closest thing to a real home she had ever known. Although it was a form of self-torture, Miranda Lawson stared at the SSV _Normandy_ SR-2 from the _other_ side of the fence – taunting herself with the sheer physical proximity the familiar world contained within the frigate. And Ashley.

Despite being cradled in its moorings, the _Normandy_ appeared poised for immediate action. The hard-won battle scars had been erased from its sleek metallic finish, but everything else was as Miranda remembered.

One hand made a fist, fingers curling until they bit into her palm, to remind herself that she could not simply stroll into the dock and request permission to come aboard. She was tempted. The opportunity for a few hours in Ashley's arms, to have another farewell, was something she desperately wanted. And couldn’t risk.

Although she was prepared to eventually deal with the consequences of lying to Ashley, she did not want to risk exposing Shepard's survival to a wider audience, nor her own involvement. There were any number of excuses she could have concocted to explain why she had yet to ship out, but Miranda had nothing to explain away the barely healed scar that travelled almost half the length of her arm. The doctor in Lanzhou had done an adequate job with the limited resources available to him. With a heavy bone weave and artificial skin grafts, she would eventually regain full functionality with minimal scarring. However, with barely any time to heal, she currently had only limited movement. Not to mention the fact that it ached like hell. She had abandoned the cast out of necessity, opting instead for a discreet compression dressing concealed beneath her uniform.

Miranda lingered for a moment longer, before she wrenched her gaze away from the _Normandy_. Her movement was so abrupt that she did not see the other person moving behind her. They collided. The jarring movement caused hot stabs of pain to shoot up her arm and radiate throughout the rest of her body.

"Fuck!"

She had to clamp her lips together to hold back the stream of profanities trying to escape her mouth. With her eyes watering from the pain, Miranda prepared herself to deliver a baleful glare to the unfortunate victim, accompanied by a few choice words.

"Oh my god!" her assailant spluttered. "I'm so sorr-…Miranda?"

Instead of a stranger, Miranda found herself staring into the familiar, wide-eyed face of Samantha Traynor. The technician was wearing a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt liberally soaked in sweat. If her clothing did not give her away, then her dark red cheeks and gasping breaths clearly said that she had been out for a jog.

"Specialist," Miranda said through gritted teeth as she kept her arm as still as possible.

"Well, actually it's Ops Chief," Sam corrected her quickly. "Not that these things matter in the slightest because you're not here to talk to me. Commander Williams will be thrilled to see you-" Sam took in the uniform Miranda was wearing and she stood up a little straighter in her sweat-stained gear "-ma'am. I would be more than happy to fill out the requisite forms to get you on board."

Miranda sighed. "Traynor-"

"Oh! Perfect timing - Sarah Williams is on board." Sam was too enthusiastic to notice that she was interrupting Miranda.

"Traynor!" Miranda had to raise her voice several octaves to get the woman's attention. Cognisant of the fact that they were in a relatively exposed position, she grabbed Traynor's arm and led her into a more secluded spot in the lee of a stripped and abandoned Mako.

"Okay, not the reaction I was expecting," Sam huffed, rubbing at her arm. "You were skulking around the _Normandy's_ docking bay, Miran – sorry, ma'am. I could only assume that you were planning to come on-board."

Miranda scowled. Half a dozen solutions to her current dilemma were jostling for position in her head. The ability to turn back time was only marginally more ridiculous than eliminating Traynor. She was angry at herself for having given into the temptation to come here in the first place.

Eventually she came to the unpalatable conclusion that she would have to tell the truth. As congenial as Traynor was (irritatingly so on occasion), she loathed the idea of anyone having such an insight into her personal life. While it was unlikely in Traynor's case, it was still fodder that could be used against her.

"Why are you even out running?" Miranda demanded.

"Avoiding the Commander's incredibly hot sister," Sam replied instinctively – failing to heed the golden rule of thinking before speaking.

Miranda's foul mood dissipated somewhat in response to the other woman's honestly. She went to fold her arms before again realising that the comfortable pose was impossible. "From what I've gathered, I am almost certain that Sarah is irredeemably straight."

"Based on the way she's chasing after the _Normandy's_ new XO? Irrefutably," Sam muttered. She rolled her eyes. “Straight people.”

"The new XO?" Miranda raised her eyebrows. Without having had any contact with Ash, she was in the dark on all the latest _Normandy_ news. It was further confirmation that it was no longer her world. She couldn’t stifle her curiosity. "How is…the new crew working out?"

"Um…fine," Sam said with an eager nod. "The new XO is actually a pretty decent guy – which is probably just as well for him given Sarah's barely concealed interest. So far the Commander has only kicked one arsehole off the ship."

Miranda winced and pressed her hand to her lips. "Please tell me she at least followed regulations?"

"Ah…no," Sam replied, unable to suppress a grin. "She most certainly did not." She cocked her head to one side as silence crept into the conversation. "It's probably none of my business, but why are you making no attempt to fight your way on-board to see the Commander?"

"I'm not here," Miranda answered succinctly.

"Err, yes you are. You're standing right in front of me."

"No, I'm _not_ here," Miranda stressed. She tried to fold her arms yet again and let out a growl of frustration. "I lied to Ash, saying that I was shipping out earlier than planned. In actual fact, I only received my final posting today. It's foolish, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to get this close. I should have just stayed away. Now I've put you in the unenviable position of having to decide whether to keep my secret."

"Oh." It was the only reply Sam could manage for almost a minute. Eventually she shook her head, more for her own benefit than Miranda's. "Um…yes, of course I will. I mean, I won't tell the Commander I saw you. Although I don't understand…why did you have to lie to her in the first place?"

Miranda had told Sam the truth, but she didn't have to tell her the _whole_ truth. She remembered what Shepard had said – that the fewer people that knew she was alive, the better. It would eventually come out of course, but she did not want to burden the young techie any more than necessary…even to relieve her own burdens.

_Traynor deserves to know, Ash deserves to know,_ Miranda told herself. _What right do you have to keep it from them?_ "You'll have to trust me when I say there are some things that you shouldn't know…and that this had nothing to do with hurting Ash. I know the two of you are close friends."

"We are," Sam said in a tight voice. She straightened in an effort to make herself appear taller than she actually was, or at least taller than Miranda.

"Traynor…Sam, I'm _not_ having an affair," Miranda emphasised. An affair couldn't be a less likely turn of events. "And I'm not asking you to lie for me. The truth will come out eventually. I'll tell you myself, I promise. Everything just needs time to settle. All I'm asking is that you don't mention my presence here today…please"

Sam pursed her lips for a moment before replying, "I won't…I promise."

Miranda nodded. "Thank you, Specialist. I am...indebted to you." She checked her omni and scowled at the time. "This may sound melodramatic...but I think my life is over. I have to report for my first official posting."

"Good luck, ma'am.”

Miranda responded with a tight-lipped smile before turning to leave.

"And it's Ops Chief," Sam added with an air of futility.

* * *

 

It was only on her fifth reading of her orders that Miranda finally accepted that they were not going to change with subsequent readings. The orders very clearly stated that she was to report to the SSV _Montevideo_ at 1530 hrs for immediate departure to the Attican Traverse. The cruiser's destination was the human colony of Mindoir _._

_Mindoir!_

Miranda stared at the colony's name as though trying to make some sense as to why she had been assigned to the arse end of nowhere, to a planet so infamous that the mere mention of its name was enough to sow doubt in the mind of even the most resilient colonist. Although she was well-versed in historical events, she had very little recollection of the planet itself save for the fact that it was an agrarian society. Given the need to rebuild twice – once after the Batarians and once after the Reapers – it was no doubt a primitive community with limited resources. She could very clearly understand the need for an Alliance presence to safeguard the colonists, but did it need to be her?

Miranda had honestly expected to be posted to Alliance R & D - nothing important given her history with Cerberus, but some backwater project where she could at least prove her worth. This was beyond a joke. She checked the time. It was already 1315. Miranda had absolutely no interest in pursuing the usual pastimes of a marine about to embark – alcohol and energetic sex. Drinking to excess wasn't her style and the one person she wanted to fuck was out of her reach. There was nothing to do other than collect her sea bag from the storage locker and find a berth on the _Montevideo_.

She picked herself up from the bench on which she'd been sitting for the better part of an hour outside Alliance headquarters. The Australian sun was invigoratingly warm. While it had never been a concern before, for some reason Miranda felt as though she wanted to hang onto that feeling for a little longer before the chill of space. The warmth was one of the few pleasant memories she retained from childhood. Miranda sighed as she began walking. Becoming a colonist had never been on her wish list of experiences. It wasn't necessarily that she thought herself better than those other marines who had received the same posting.

_Except I am better,_ Miranda thought with an annoyed snort. _And they've decided that I can be best utilised by safe-guarding cows_. She didn't give a rat's arse whether they actually had cows on Mindoir.

"Second-Lieutenant Lawson?"

The voice across the courtyard caught her attention immediately for its familiarity. Miranda stopped and turned, expending an inhuman amount of effort to keep from scowling when she saw none other than the Butcher of Torfan herself, Captain Cristiane Alves, crossing the courtyard to intercept her. _Now I know why it is Mindoir_ , Miranda thought as she narrowed her eyes. _I wonder if she's got any helpful advice to offer. Bloody smug bitch_.

"I thought that was you," Alves announced with a broad grin when she drew near. "Shipping out today?"

"Yes, ma'am." _You know full well I am_. It was all Miranda could do to keep her tone civil, especially when her imagination kept taunting her with the prospect of throwing the Captain into the half-finished ornamental garden behind her. Currently it was merely a large mud puddle. "Mindoir," Miranda offered before the question could be asked. "I've never had the privilege of visiting, but I'm looking forward to the challenge."

If Alves realised her convivial tone was forced, she did not let on. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest, a simple movement that irked Miranda. "I spent my childhood on Mindoir. It's a beautiful world…or it was a beautiful world before those four-eyed fuckers tore it apart. I haven't been back since, but I hear those engaged in the rebuilding effort are working miracles. I'm sure they'll be very grateful to learn that Miranda Lawson will be joining them."

Miranda nodded politely. "And I'm grateful for the opportunity." She feigned glancing at her omni-tool to check the time. "My apologies, ma'am, I need to report-"

"The common misconception is that it's flat," Alves interrupted thoughtfully. "The farming belts are of course, but large parts of Mindoir – especially Northern climes - remind me significantly of Alaska...or parts of Canada, Alberta for instance. Have you spent much time in Alberta, Lawson?"

"No, I can't say that I have," Miranda replied smoothly. "Us Aussies don't really appreciate all that snow and ice."

"Pity, it's beautiful really." Alves closed the distance between them. Before Miranda could appreciate what she was doing, she uncrossed her arms and reached out to lay a hand on her upper arm – the injured one. It was all Miranda could do to keep her composed expression from slipping as Alves' fingers tightened around her tender flesh. "Watch yourself on Mindoir won't you, Lawson. You'll be a long way from Earth Space. It would be a shame for the Alliance to lose such a valuable asset when we've so recently acquired you."

"I have absolutely no intention of getting lost," Miranda promised. "But thank you for the advice. With your leave, ma'am?"

Miranda did not wait for the Captain's permission to depart. She simply turned, dragging her arm free from Alves' grip as she moved. The simple act almost made her gasp in pain, but she kept her back ramrod straight and her footsteps energetic as she marched away from the Alliance Officer without looking back. Internally however, her mind was reeling.

* * *

 

**Attican Traverse**

When her eyes opened to the darkness, it took Liara several moments to remember that she was on board a commercial freighter. The vessel's original manifest had listed its destination as Ontarom, a human colony in the Kepler Verge, but the destination had been changed en route. They were headed toward Omega – still thirty-eight hours out.

Liara shifted against the chair in which she was sitting in an effort to find some measure of comfort. Although she was no stranger to falling asleep in a chair, this particular one was hard, small and not at all conducive to sleep. The freighter was old and its environmental controls had seen better days. As such, the temperature was several degrees below comfort. Liara tugged her blanket up closer to her chin as she peered through the darkness toward the bed. The narrow bed in the cabin was occupied by her bondmate. Ordinarily it would have offered them ample space to sleep in each other's arms. Liara closed her eyes and smiled at the thought of Shepard wrapping her strong arms around her waist as she had done so many times in the past. She would have enjoyed the lack of space, giving her an excuse to sleep close.

However, this was not the past. A sharp grunt from the bed caused her eyes to open again. Shepard appeared restless in her sleep – tossing and turning as though she was in the grip of a nightmare. Given all that she had been through, Liara was hardly surprised. The asari threw off her blanket and peeled her body out of the chair. Quietly, she crossed the short distance to her lover's side. As she neared, the faint green glow from the emergency lighting revealed Shepard's body to be covered in sweat despite the chill in the air. She knew that she ought to restrict herself to folding the covers over her exposed body, but her hand lingered on the centre of Shepard's chest, willing her to find peace amid her dreams. Beneath the palm her hand she felt the rapid beat of her lover's heart.

"Evan," she whispered quietly, smoothing strands of sweat soaked hair away from the human's face. "You need to remember that you are safe." She trailed her fingers through the dark tresses, marvelling at their length. A small smile crossed her face as she remembered the last time that she had paid such attention to Shepard's hair. "I cannot believe that you let an asari armed with scissors anywhere near your hair," she reflected in a fond voice. "You called me a butcher. I thought you looked very dashing with such short hair. But I like it like this too. It is not regulation length, but it is beautiful."

Her voice trailed off but she continued trailing her fingers through Shepard's hair, and brushing them in what she hoped was a reassuring manner against her scalp. Her bondmate seemed to calm for several moments. A smile even ghosted Shepard’s lips. Liara let her hand linger for the last time before returning to her chair. She drew it back at the moment that Shepard's eyes snapped open and her left hand darted out to catch Liara's wrist. If Liara had not appreciated before how abnormally strong Shepard's artificial hand was, she was now fully aware. The fingers tightened around her slender wrist until the bones felt as though they were at breaking point. One sudden move on her part, and her wrist would snap.

"Evan!" she gasped. "Please…"

"Liara?" Shepard's eyes suddenly widened and she released her hold immediately. Sleep fell away quickly as she shuffled into a sitting position. She pressed her back into the corner of the sleeping alcove as though seeking a defensible position. "I'm sorry." Shepard shook her head. "I didn't mean to hurt you like that." She crumpled forward, placing her head in her hands.

Her wrist smarted and would possibly bruise, but Liara flexed it to find it still in working order. "No lasting harm done," she managed in a brave voice. She could not deny that Shepard's fury had terrified her.

"You don't understand," Shepard whispered, shaking her head. "I'm not talking about your wrist. Just…please don't touch me, I can't be trusted."

Liara bristled. "Evan, I'm your bondmate, and I know you. I trust you implicitly!" she tried to reassure her, but her words sounded hollow even to her own ears. "Will you at least do me the courtesy of actually looking at me?"

Shepard lifted her head from her hands. Although she found some measure of peace in Liara's concerned gaze, she could not allow her defences to drop. The same nightmare had returned yet again, although this time her unconscious mind had failed to wake her up in time. She remembered every moment of the act – a perversion of the relationship that they had shared. Her stomach churned and bile rose in her throat.

Liara remembered implicitly the conversation that she had with Mack. His advice to her had been to remain patient, and she had accepted it at the time. Now she was beginning to understand something of the pain that was eating away at her lover. She understood it because she recognised it as similar to the darkness that had almost destroyed her. Patience was one thing, but waiting until it was too late was another altogether.

"You need to let me in," Liara said resolutely. Although her hand was trembling, she lifted it to Shepard's temple and pressed the pads of her fingers against the clammy skin. "You need to let me in there…please?"

"No!" The blunt response was accompanied by a vigorous shake of her head. "Don't ask that of me."

"I know you do not want me to see what happened to you," Liara continued. "And I wish I could respect your wishes, but in this I cannot. If you do not let me in, I cannot help you heal."

"There are some things that cannot be healed," Shepard replied stubbornly.

"I refuse to accept that!" Liara countered firmly. Her liquid gaze hardened. "Give me permission." Her voice was harsh. It was not a request, but a demand.

Shepard held her gaze for almost a minute. All Liara could hope was that she saw the love there, and the promise that she would do everything in her power to help her – regardless of what it was eating away at her from the inside out. As soon as Shepard's chin tilted forward in an approximation of a nod, Liara steeled herself and embraced the meld.

_From their first tentative attempts whilst trying to unravel the mysteries of the Prothean beacon embedded in Shepard's mind, their melds had progressed to the point where it was like coming home. That familiarity was still within Shepard, but it was almost overwhelmed by a strong memory that managed to override everything else. From Liara's perspective, it felt as though Shepard was bombarding her own consciousness with it as a form of punishment._

_Two bodies writhed on a non-descript bed. Liara immediately recognised a youthful Shepard on top, one she had never known. The soldier's hair was cropped at cheek-length, her taut, well-defined muscles rippled across her back as she moved. As Liara moved forward the other woman twisted her head to one side. Liara recognised the blonde woman from the shuttle, also much younger. An obvious cry of pain emerged from her lips, cut off sharply as Shepard cruelly crushed their mouths together in a violent approximation of a kiss. One hand she used to pin both the woman's wrists against the mattress, while the other was buried between their bodies. It did not require any imagination for Liara to realise what was happening with each forceful thrust of Shepard's body. She had to fight to keep from dissolving the meld and fleeing. Liara forced down her first reaction, continuing to move forward despite her mind screaming at her._

_The naked Shepard suddenly looked directly at her, eyes wild with lustful abandon. "You see now why I didn't want to let you in? You can't heal this, Liara. Nothing will change what I did to her."_

_The blonde screamed again, and Shepard laughed. Liara dropped to both knees. Within the meld she felt Shepard's lust and desire, and it terrified her. She had been on the receiving end of those same touches, and yet the violence meant that they were worlds apart._

_Liara also felt her revulsion. The shame was tearing her apart._

_Liara forced herself to concentrate. The meld laid everything bare between them. With a half-choked sob of relief, she realised that the scene in front of her was not a memory at all. She forced herself back to her feet. Although she wanted to be as far away as possible, Liara knelt at the side of the bed so Shepard could not avoid her. Even in the meld, she could smell sweat and arousal._

" _Evan, this is a fabrication. It is not real," she insisted. "You need to show me what actually happened."_

_As though someone had entered a command into a console, all the details became apparent. The scene was taking place on the Citadel. The blonde woman was Dr Naomi Stone. "What happened after you met Naomi at Purgatory and took her back to your room?"_

_The scene suddenly shifted with nauseating speed. Shepard was lying on the same bed, but she was no longer naked. She wore a white vest top above plain blue jeans. The fly was undone but they were still snug over her hips. The blonde was nowhere in sight. She stubbornly shook her head. "I don't remember!" she protested. Her fingers scrubbed at her temples in frustration. "We were in Purgatory-"_

_Her words were accompanied by a set of flashing images – the first glance across the bar, the slurred, innuendo laden conversation, and the dark corner at the back of the club - all set to a pulsing beat._

" _There was a taxi ride-"_

_Further snapshots. As the two women pawed against one another in the taxi, Liara felt Shepard's intrinsic desire on one level, but the base emotions that she was trying to forget kept trying to force their way to the fore. The asari heard the screams of dying marines. Their faces were contorted beyond all recognition by maw acid, but she knew exactly who they were – Cash, Ryan, Kopernicki, Yorke – all were squadmates, many had been friends, and a few were occasional lovers. They all had one other thing in common – they had died by the dozen on Akuze._

" _I don't remember the hotel room," Shepard whispered in despair._

" _Yes you do," Liara said confidently. She glanced around, seeing details that she had missed when she had not been paying attention. "You are in it now – you remember the creaky bed, the hideous green carpet-" Liara glanced up and saw a print above the bed. For some odd reason she recognised it as a work by one of the more famous elcor artists. "Even the cheap print hanging on the wall. These are details you have just forgotten. You know exactly what happened."_

" _I had been fucking horny in the club…even the taxi." Shepard shook her head. "But when we made it back to the room everything suddenly caught up with me. The booze, the Hallex…we were on the bed, kissing, undressing…Naomi went to the bathroom…"_

_A fog descended over Liara in tandem with Shepard's memory. She felt an immense amount of satisfaction as she bunched up the pillow beneath her head and closed her eyes. Sleep felt fucking wonderful…even better than sex. A hand was shaking her urgently, a voice was admonishing her to wake up – playful at first and then heatedly. The last sense that Liara picked up was that Shepard didn't give a fuck, all she wanted to do was sleep._

The meld dissolved and Liara lost her connection with Shepard's consciousness as she familiarised herself with their tiny cabin and the woman sitting in front of her. Shepard was trembling in her sweat-soaked vest, her teeth chattering together in a strange staccato.

"I passed out," she whispered in a small voice.

"You are freezing." It was Liara's chief concern. Without thinking, she manoeuvred her own body atop the bed and drew Shepard against her. The human's skin was like ice against her own. Her own relief was soaring in her veins, even as she drew as many blankets as she could reach up over Shepard's body.

"I fucking passed out," Shepard repeated as she pressed into Liara's side. She shook her head in disbelief. "That bitch made me believe I raped her…yet all along she knew the truth. What the hell kind of person does that?"

Liara also shook her head. "I do not know, Evan…perhaps someone had hurt Stone once and she projected that onto you. Perhaps she enjoyed it…" Her voice trailed off. "I do not want to speculate."

"I fucking saved her life," Shepard hissed between gritted teeth.

Liara drew in a tremulous breath. "And I took it." When Shepard pulled away, Liara feared that she had undone everything they had accomplished in the meld. In pulling the trigger and killing Naomi Stone, she had wilfully gone against the promise she had made to Shepard. She waited for the disappointment to settle over her lover's features. "I do not make a habit of breaking my promises to you, but in this case…I am sorry, Evan…but I would do it again given the chance."

The disappointed expression never came. Shepard allowed her body to settle back against Liara's side. This time her anger had dissipated to the point where she could relax against the asari's curves. Even through the fabric of her uniform, she could feel the subtle warmth radiating from her body. Shepard sighed and felt her fears drifting away from her with the soft exhale. "No you wouldn't…you'd let me do it." For the first time since her rescue, she felt completely free. "Thank you, Liara."

Apparently, some things _could_ be healed.

 


	17. The Proverbial Wet Dream

**Fiordland, New Zealand**

Hannah Shepard exhaled slowly. It was so cold that her breath condensed the moment it left her chilled lips, drifting lazily in front of her face until it dissipated a second later. The temperature ought to have driven her indoors, but she found the cold invigorating and the view breath-taking.

Aside from visits to the Athabasca Facility, much of her post-war time had been spent in war ravaged London and Vancouver. While Alliance High Command crowed about the success of the rebuilding effort via their puppet news outlets, one only had to look below the gleaming new structures to see the rubble that still lay at their feet. Although most people had enough to eat and a place to sleep, receiving the necessities were conditional on obeying the stringent rules set in place. Hannah asked herself how long the population would continue to submit to the post-war military regime. Eventually people would realise that the Alliance had absolutely no plans to relinquish the power that it had gained.

By then it would be too late. The stranglehold would be complete.

Before she could allow her thoughts to be bogged down by such concerns, Hannah refocused on the beauty in front of her. It seemed almost criminal that such places still existed on Earth. While she was certain that it could not possibly last, at least not for a wanted woman, she was determined to enjoy it while she could. Having been in the Systems Alliance Navy since she was eighteen, Hannah could not remember experiencing such a period of inactivity. There had been brief holidays of course – although none longer than the two week honeymoon she and John had spent on Elysium. Following his death, she'd largely ignored her vacation time except for occasional educational trip to Earth with Evangeline. Despite being taken to some of Earth's finest museums containing humanities treasures, her daughter had spent most of the time sullen and unresponsive. It was only in hindsight that Hannah realised she had never bothered to ask Evan what she actually wanted to do.

Their brief parting words before Evan left Earth had given her hope. In truth, Hannah had expected either a silence containing only barely concealed contempt or yet another bout of curt, angry, one-sided accusation. Instead their exchange had bordered on being polite.

As Hannah's gaze lingered over the lake and surrounding rainforest, she finally found a measure of peace that had been eluding her for a long time. She was so caught up in the view, that she did not hear the approaching footsteps until they sounded just behind her. Although startled, she soon remembered that there was no one for miles save her and Pericles Macklin.

Mack stopped just ahead of her, slightly short of the water's edge. Hannah shook her head in disbelief. Despite the cold the blasted man was wearing shorts again – exposing his sinewy legs to the elements. Having spent the past few days sharing each other's company, the New Zealander's brusque manner and shameless flirting continued to irritate the hell out of her. Her reaction was tempered by the fact that he'd risked his life for her daughter but there was only so much blatant disregard for propriety that she could take.

_Especially at my age!_ Hannah thought as she watched Mack retrieve a smooth stone from near his feet.

Although fifty-eight was hardly over the hill, it was old enough to assume that no one in their right mind would be interested in flirting with her. Although there had been a few relationships over the years since John's death, they had each served a purpose at a different time in her life. Certainly, none had lingered long enough to warrant introducing them to her daughter.

_The man is handsome…in a rugged sort of way_ , she admitted grudgingly, trying not to watch too closely as Mack threw the stone with an almost graceful movement. They both watched it skip across the otherwise smooth surface of the lake before disappearing. The ripples lingered, disturbing the mirrored images of the surrounding landscape. Hannah let out another exhale and realised belatedly that she had been holding her breath.

"Enjoying the nice view?" he commented, glancing over his shoulder toward her. The ever-present grin was fixed on his face.

"It seems a gross understatement to simply call it 'nice.' Breath-taking…or stunning would be more appropriate," Hannah replied brusquely.

"Yeah, not bad is it," Mack said with a shrug.

Hannah pursed her lips together in disapproval. However, the longer she stared at him, the more she suspected that his outward nonchalance did not paint a complete picture. There was a wistful tint to his gaze and a small smile on his face. Mack glanced at her again and she was caught staring. She couldn't remember the last time her cheeks had burned in such a manner and tried to cover up her embarrassment with words.

"I don't think I've thanked you for putting up with me – I'm taking up your space…as well as the only bed. As soon as I can link up with Anderson I'll be out of your hair." _The sooner the better I think._

"No need to hurry." Mack ran a hand through the still thick hair on his head. He turned his body fully to face her. "I enjoy the company – and a view of a different sort." As Hannah bristled, he grinned and continued, "Besides you shouldn't be so willing to throw yourself back into yet another struggle – regardless of how badly the Alliance deserves to have you come and kick their arses."

_The man is absolutely incorrigible_! "I don't kick many arses these days," Hannah admitted honestly.

She was still nursing a plethora of bruises and aching muscles as a result of the rescue mission – even though Liara and Miranda had dealt out most of the damage, leaving her and Mack to mop up the stragglers.

Hannah had to admit that her first impressions of the mercenary had been incorrect – born out of a series of assumptions based on his profession and his brash manner. She had seen him in action, but it was what she was seeing now that was the most revealing. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Mack did not fit the mould of a violent, transient killer-for-pay. He was clearly well-educated and, from the contented expression on his face, he enjoyed simply _being_.

Without waiting for an invitation, Mack eased his body down onto the fallen tree trunk she was using as a seat. Hannah had to resist the urge to draw in a deep breath and take in the pleasant, woodsy scent he always carried with him. In an effort to concentrate on something, anything, else she cast her gaze skywards. The puffy clouds were tinged with grey.

"All going well, Evan and Liara ought to have reached Omega by now."

"Yeah, not sure if I would have thrown myself at Aria's mercy," Mack replied warily. "That bitch is as likely to turn on you as she is to offer any help. I know Liara's a smart kid, but Aria is something else. Maybe I should have insisted on going with them? I should get over myself and accept the fact that I can actually stand to look at _her_ again."

Hannah regarded his expression out of the corner of her eye. The slight twist to his lips matched the bitter tone evident in his voice. "I take it things between you and Aria T'Loak did not end well?"

Although she did not know the self-styled Queen of Omega, she had heard enough. If even half the stories were true, then she was a piece of work indeed.

"Shit, they ended well enough, she's just a fucking bitch. I'm not entirely sure how I managed to spend nine years with her without either of us ripping the other to pieces. Actually, scratch that…without her ripping _me_ into tiny pieces." Mack cocked his head to one side "Actually, I do know, the physical side of things was mind-blowingly fan-" He suddenly cut himself off and an actual apologetic expression settled on his chiselled features. "Sorry, you didn't need to know that."

"I most certainly did not," Hannah replied as a sudden, inexplicable frustration surged throughout her body. She lashed out, giving Mack a short, sharp shove that sent him toppling backward over the log and landing hard on the stones. "You are an arse, Mr Macklin!" she snapped as she rose to her feet, trying to maintain some measure of composure as she realised that the frustration had been born out of a sudden jealousy.

She stared at him lying on his back with his bare legs still hooked over the log. For some reason she suddenly found the whole situation so comical she almost laughed. Laughter – it was something she hadn't done for so long, she'd almost forgotten how to do it. Hannah had to keep her lips clamped together as she marched past the helpless man and back toward the house. She did not offer him a single glance over her shoulder.

* * *

 

Despite the fact that the air temperature was probably only a little above freezing, Mack remained where he was for some time in an effort to remind himself that not all women were open to his particular brand of charm. Mack sighed regretfully. Hannah Shepard was not like most women and in all likelihood his loose tongue had ruined their fledging friendship.

When he eventually peeled himself from the terrain, his entire body was chilled to the bone. Mack reasoned that this was a fitting punishment for his impatience as he walked stiffly toward the house. Hannah had probably retired to the bedroom as she usually did when she wanted to be alone. He would be able to sneak into the training room without causing further embarrassment for either of them. A vigorous bout of physical exercise would be the ideal tonic.

Mack made it only as far as the threshold before he discovered that Hannah was not in her room. She had been waiting for him. At first glance he saw her stormy expression and thought that she was going to push him again, or possibly deck him altogether. Howeve,r when she moved forward, she extended a slender hand and wrapped it around the back of his neck. His heart thumped like a teenager's as she drew his head downwards to bring their lips together. The kiss was hesitant at first. Mack could sense that Hannah was unsure of herself, and her body was still tense. He in turn did not want to appear over eager, despite the fact that he had wanted to kiss her from the moment she'd opened the door to him in his stolen Alliance uniform.

When she eventually pressed her slender body forward, moulding it to his own, he risked wrapping both his arms around her back. Hannah responded with a slight sigh. Her body seemed to relax along with the gentle exhalation. He continued to hold her, almost protectively, even when she broke the kiss to look him in the eye. Despite an attempt to keep his expression neutral, he could not stop a contented grin from creeping across his face.

"This doesn't change a thing," Hannah said as she delivered a stern glare. The rebuke within the expression was completely negated by the pink flush to her cheeks and youthful exhilaration dancing in her eyes. "You are still an arse."

* * *

 

**Earth Alliance Space**

Sam Traynor kept finding excuses to remain at her console on the CIC. On this particular occasion she had swiftly offered to cover for Yeoman Clayton when he mentioned that he had been unwell all morning. As his superior, she'd bundled him off to see Dr Chakwas whilst taking over the familiar duties with something approaching relief.

With the _Normandy_ back on active duty, the days of standing, bored out of her brain were behind her. There were actual communications coming in – from nearby Alliance vessels, colonies, and communiqués from Alliance HQ. It was more than enough to keep her busy and her mind from wandering to places where she did not want to be – to a certain Medical Technician who was continuing to drive her crazy. Sam heard footsteps behind her and turned -

"Hey, Chief."

\- to find Sarah Williams beaming at her. Sarah managed to say 'Chief' in such a way that caused Sam's knees to go weak.

"I thought you were off-duty an hour ago?" Sarah asked as she folded her arms across her chest. "You still owe me a re-match. I swear I've finally got you all figured out and you're going down this time."

"Um, no." Although she had quickly discovered that Sarah was crap at chess, Sam had very nearly lost by virtue of the fact that she spent the entire game in an uncomfortable, hot and bothered state. Sweating while playing chess was one thing, what Sarah managed to do to her was another state altogether. "Unfortunately Clayton is off sick so I'm pulling a double. Rain check?"

Sarah sighed with what sounded like genuine disappointment. "I could hang out here-"

"No!" Sam winced at the vehemence of her tone. She drew in a breath. Sarah didn't deserve her anger. In all likelihood she was probably bored. "I'd like that, it's just that I have all this work..."

"Of course," Sarah replied quickly. "I shouldn't have presumed...I'll see you later, Sam – I mean, Chief."

_She said it again!_ Sam listened to Sarah's boots taping on the deck for a few moments before risking a glance over her shoulder. Her gaze lingered in an appreciative manner until she felt slightly sleazy and turned her attention back to her work.

Sam's day worsened when Yeoman Clayton returned ten minutes later saying that his stomach pains had simply been a bad case of indigestion. She reluctantly finished downloading the latest comms report for Commander Williams before relinquishing the station.

"Oh by the way, Chief, I ran into Sarah Williams on the crew deck," Clayton said. "She seemed quite anxious about a chess rematch she owed you. I let her know that you were off-duty so she said she'd set up the board in the observation lounge right away."

"Thanks, Yeoman...thanks awfully." Sam gathered up the datapad containing the comms report and made a hasty exit from the CIC. Although the part of her that enjoyed self-humiliation was looking forward to the prospect of a few hours in Sarah's company, her sensible side was anxious to retain some sort of dignity. She decided to take the report straight up to the Crow's Nest and give herself some time to calm down.

_Just play it cool, Sam. You can do that can't you? Enjoy the fact that you get to hang out with a gorgeous woman and leave it at that._

_{Commander Williams is expecting you, Sam,}_ EDI said when Sam was barely out of the elevator.

Sam frowned. "She is?"

With a shrug, Sam slapped her palm against the door and entered the Crow's Nest. She hadn't been in Ashley's quarters since she ended up having an impromptu sleepover after downing too much scotch. The resulting embarrassment the next morning wasn't something she wanted to remind herself of often. The space was shrouded in darkness save for a faint glow emanating from the Commander's private terminal and her armour locker at the end of the room. The Ops Chief saw a shape moving in front of her and tentatively made her way forward, mindful of the steps leading down to the lower level.

"Um, Commander?" Sam called out. "EDI said you were expecting me...I have today's comm. report for your review."

Without warning, the room was suddenly bathed in light. Given that her eyes had barely even adjusted to the darkness, Sam saw nothing for several seconds. When the spots cleared, she realised that not only was Ashley already with someone, she was not wearing a stitch of clothing. As if that was not bad enough, the woman currently in Ashley's arms was an equally naked Miranda Lawson. The datapad hit the floor with a thud, followed by Sam's jaw.

"Holy mother of god, I'm so sorry!" Sam spluttered. "EDI said...um, she said something that led me to believe I could come in, when clearly I should have stayed outside because Miranda is here and you two are very…very busy. Um, hi, Miranda."

Neither woman appeared the slightest bit perturbed by the fact that Sam was standing in front of them, obviously too frozen with mortification to even think about fleeing the room. As Ashley turned to look at her, she continued to caress Miranda's naked back in a nonchalant manner.

"The report can wait, Chief," Ashley said. "That's not the reason you're here."

"Well I'd really, really like to know why I'm here," Sam said, her voice having risen by several octaves. "Because this is…more than awkward."

Miranda extricated herself from Ashley's arms and turned to face Sam. Presented with a full-frontal view that she had hitherto only imagined in the dead of her sleep cycle (and only when she was feeling particularly indecent), Sam involuntarily let out a strangled whimper. There were a dozen key questions running through her mind, not least why the hell this was happening, but also why Miranda was even on board the _Normandy_ when she had already told Sam that she could not see Ashley. However, these were rational questions, and her brain was shutting down on a number of levels. Her mouth could not form anything other than incoherent sounds and her legs felt as though they would give way the moment she tried to use them to flee. Unfortunately, her body had reacted in other predictable ways to the sight of an incredibly gorgeous, naked woman.

"You need to stop thinking so much, Sam," Miranda said softly. She reached out and ran both her hands through Sam's hair. "You can turn around and walk out-" As Miranda spoke she ran her hands firmly downwards, over Sam's breasts and stomach to rest atop her belt "-or you can stay and see what happens."

"What's going t'happen?" Sam murmured, vaguely aware of the fact that Miranda was working at her belt with deft fingers.

Ashley moved to stand beside them. With a surprisingly gentle touch she cupped Sam's cheek and applied pressure to turn her head. "Oh, Sam," she whispered before bending at the waist to kiss her.

Sam did not make a habit of imagining how it would feel to kiss her commanding officer, but if she had it would have felt something like the firm, passionate meeting of lips that followed. Ashley's hand travelled slowly across her cheek before wrapping around the nape of her neck, fingers threading up into her hair. When she drew her mouth away by just scant inches, Sam felt suddenly bereft as she floated in a haze of desire. The sensation latest only moments as she felt her belt loosen enough for Miranda to press her palm against her lower abdomen and slide it downwards. Sam's eyes slid closed in anticipation. The officer's hand delved almost effortlessly beneath the band of her underwear and lower. Sam moaned low in her throat as insistent fingers grated against her already wet sex.

"We're going to fuck you," Ashley explained in a throaty whisper.

"Yes," Sam heard herself reply eagerly. "Yes…yes."

" _Sam?"_ What the hell was Bethany Westmoreland doing in the Crow's Nest? "Are you alright?"

When Sam's eyes slowly opened and focused she found herself staring at the underside of the bunk above her own. There was no Crow's Nest, no naked commanding officer and no naked Miranda Lawson. The only lingering elements from her dream were a pair of soaking wet underwear and a racing heartbeat.

Bethany was peering beneath the bunk with an expression of concern. "You look a little flushed. Are you coming down with something?"

"Um, no," Sam replied quickly. She sat up whilst keeping her bed covers pulled up around her neck. "I'm fine." Bethany remained dubious, continuing to hover nearby without realising that Sam was desperate for her to leave. "Honestly."

"Okay, I guess I'll see you at breakfast," Bethany replied.

When the Corporal disappeared from view, Sam flopped back against her pillow with a suppressed groan. How could the most amazing dream she'd ever had also be her worst nightmare? She didn't know whether to kill Westmoreland for waking her up just before things got good, or thank her profusely for cutting it short before things could get out of hand. As it was, Sam did not even want to know how her unconscious imagination had conjured such convincing impressions of both Ashley Williams and Miranda Lawson in the nude. Clearly she had spent more time dwelling on such things than she was willing to admit to herself.

Sam wrenched herself out of bed before she could give into the temptation to linger on the images seared into her brain. That path led only to the exquisite torment of the little death. In communal crew quarters with the shifts changing over, finishing what her unconscious mind had started was next to impossible.

_A very quick, cold shower is the best you can hope for_ , Sam informed herself bluntly.

* * *

 

Commander Ashley Williams was acutely aware of the fact that the captain of an Alliance frigate had better things to do with her time than stare out of a window whilst on active duty. However, she could not resist a few moments to appreciate the vast emptiness that surrounded the _Normandy_. Shore leave had only ever been about spending time with Miranda and her sisters. With that prematurely curtailed by the Alliance PR machine, she craved getting back into the action – even if her first 'action' was ferrying her sister and a load of supplies to a small Alliance colony in the Maroon Sea. She was light years from the SA bureaucracy, Fleet Admiral Kessler, and any bloody reporters. Now if she could only find some heads to bang together…

_{Commander Williams?}_

It was odd hearing an unfamiliar masculine voice over the comm. Ashley had grown accustomed to hearing Traynor's pleasant accent. She turned away from the window. "I'm listening, Clayton."

_{Incoming call for you via QEC, ma'am. It has an asari signature.}_

Ashley had already started walking toward the War Room before Clayton finished his sentence. _Asari?_ She stopped in her tracks as her first thoughts went to Liara. Their one-way communication had stopped abruptly several weeks earlier but that was typical behaviour from the Shadow Broker and it had hardly crossed Ash's mind. Real-time contact stirred up a flurry of concern and she resumed moving at a pace so brisk it was almost a jog. She didn't see Sam Traynor emerge from the opposite direction until they collided heavily. Coming into contact with someone who was taller and heavier, Sam came off second best. It was only Ashley's time-honed reactions that saved her from falling on her arse. She wrapped an arm around her waist and steadied her without thinking.

"Commander!" Sam's response was overly high-pitched. "I'm really, really sorry."

"Take it easy, Chief," Ashley said, wondering why Sam was refusing to look her in the eye. "No harm done."

"Um, no I suppose not," Sam mumbled. "Do you mind letting me go?"

Ashley's touch lingered for a few moments longer than Sam obviously thought was necessary and she extricated herself with some urgency. The Ops Chief then began backing away quickly, still not looking at her.

"Is everything alright, Traynor?" Ashley was cognisant of the need to take her call, but Sam looked oddly pale.

"Yes, ma'am!" was the too-quick reply.

Traynor then turned and fled from the scene, but not before Ashley noticed an expression of relief cross the young woman's features. Tucking the incident away as something to be discussed off-duty, Ashley made her way into the comms room and made a point of sealing the door behind her. As the grainy figure morphed into view, she was disappointed to find that it was not the familiar presence of Liara T'Soni, but rather the asari Councillor. Tevos had always managed to intimidate Ashley, much as Liara had following their initial meeting. However, unlike Liara, the air of mystery and sagacity that surrounded the asari Councillor had never dissipated.

"It has been too long, Spectre Williams," Tevos said, inclining her head slightly in greeting.

_Was that a polite way of saying that she's pissed off I haven't been in touch with the Council for months?_ Ashley asked herself. While she herself was an open book, she had never been good at reading other humans let alone aliens.

"Likewise. You look…" _The same as ever?_ "well." When Ashley fumbled for something else suitable to say, she realised that she had hardly spared a thought for how the other races were faring in some weeks – and certainly not recently. "How is the rebuilding effort on Thessia progressing?"

"Slowly at first," Tevos admitted. "However, since we acknowledged that it was our own societal restraints keeping our efforts mired in bureaucracy and endless discussions, real progress has been made. For a race accustomed to not making decisions lightly, it took our people being reduced to starvation to realise that we had to act more rapidly."

"Yes, we had reports of a severe famine on Thessia." Ashley's response was awkward. She knew that the Alliance had explained away their lack of aid with the need to feed and shelter humanity.

"No doubts the reports are exaggerated but…we struggled for some time," Tevos responded in a guarded voice. “There were…casualties.”

The pain of the loss was unmistakably written across the Councillor's face. Ashley swallowed. "My condolences, ma'am."

"Thank you, Commander Williams." Tevos nodded and her face returned to an impassive mask. "I realise that your official rank within your military structure means that you are not privy to top-level discussions, but I was hoping you could shed some light on the curiously insular behaviour of the Alliance. At first the Council understood the need to stabilise the situation on home soil, but the continued withdrawal and isolation from Galactic politics has raised a great number of questions. Councillor Udina's death during the destruction of the Citadel was tragic, but it is high time humanity elected his successor. There are pressing matters to be addressed – notably the rise of piracy and the threat of civil war on Tuchanka."

The talk of politics was already making Ashley's head hurt. She had never liked Udina – he was a pompous little prick – but she couldn't argue with the fact that he had been ideally suited to navigating the mire that was galactic politics. "With all due respect, the title of Spectre carries little weight within the Alliance itself these days. Even if I did understand half of what was happening, I personally couldn't influence Alliance leadership-"

"You can't…or you won't, _Spectre_ Williams?" Tevos demanded. "Do you deny the reports that the Alliance will soon close its borders to non-humans – refugees, diplomats, _all_ non-humans? How is such an isolationist policy conducive to galactic rebuilding?"

Ashley fought the urge to rub her temples. She inhaled and exhaled gently a few times before she could say something out of haste that she would probably see her Spectre status revoked. _She wants one individual to influence change to that degree? There was one woman who could have done it, but she's dead…and I'm not in her league. "_ I can't, Councillor Tevos, but give me something I _can_ do within the bounds of my obligations as Commander of the _Normandy_."

"Perhaps the Council is placing unrealistic expectations on its sole human Spectre," Tevos replied. Ashley wasn't entirely sure, but she thought the asari sounded disappointed. "I do have a smaller matter to bring to your attention. Several weeks ago, an asari cruiser picked up a series of what appear to be distress calls originating from the human colony on Horizon-"

"There's no colony on Horizon," Ashley interrupted. She didn't normally make a habit of it, but Horizon was all too familiar to her. "It was decimated during the Collector attacks and during the Reaper War by both the Reapers and Cerberus. I should know, I was there both times. The Alliance have already had ground teams in, the place is a damn mess. And several weeks ago? Why are you bringing this to Alliance attention now?"

"Because we have already taken the information to your government. As far as we can tell, our communications have been ignored," Tevos explained patiently. "I will forward you the data. What you choose to do with it, Commander Williams, is up to you. The Alliance may have turned its back on the Council, but we have not turned our back on humanity."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Councillor, but you're relying on the wrong individual as your contact. I'm a soldier, not a politician." _Miranda would know what to do. Shepard would know what to do. She'd have a bloody good moan about it first, but she'd get the job done. I just shoot things._ "I don't know what you hope to accomplish."

"Even the smallest ripples can instigate change," Tevos replied. "I will forward you additional relevant information from time to time on behalf of the Council. Farewell, Commander, good hunting."

"Hang on!" Ashley's protest died on her lips as Tevos terminated the call. She slapped the console in disgust. "Good bloody hunting my ass. It's more like a bloody political shitstorm."

The Councillor was true to her word. Almost as soon as she returned to the CIC, Clayton informed her that she had an unread message. While the rebellious side of her wanted to ignore it, both her curiosity and her concern won out as she opened the file containing the messages. There were only three in total that purported to originate from Horizon. All were terse and to the point. Ash read through each one several times in order to digest the information. She felt her face drain of colour and her lips tighten in anger.

"Joker?"

_{Commander! I was beginning to think you didn't love me anymore!}_ was the animated response.

"Chasca's going to have to wait. Set a course for Horizon," she informed her pilot.

_{I've already been there…twice, and it sucked both times,}_ Joker protested amiably.

"Set the course, pilot," Ashley growled in an inflexible voice. She didn't have time for jokes – appropriate or not. "Or I'll have you up on charge."

_{Aye, aye, ma'am, setting a course for the Shadow Sea.}_

Ash had a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. If the messages were real, then she was about to throw herself and the _Normandy_ into the middle of one of those political shitstorms that she had been so anxious to avoid.

 


	18. The Soul of Omega

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

Afterlife, the incessantly pulsating heart of Omega, seemed to have emerged from the War unscathed, as though normal service had never been disrupted. The Cerberus occupation had swiftly been swept under the rug or, perhaps more aptly, flushed out of the airlock.

When Liara entered she found the pace as frenetic, the music as mind-numbingly loud, and the overall atmosphere of hedonism as prevalent as she remembered. If anything, such elements were magnified. Especially when contrasted with the solitude in which she had spent the past seven months. Afterlife clearly thrived in the aftermath of chaos.

As Liara threaded her way through the enthusiastic patrons she noted that Afterlife did not seem to be suffering a shortage in either alcohol or talented dancers. Scantily clad asari, some with their breasts bared altogether, gyrated for the amusement of their boisterous but obedient clients. Despite the tempting goods on offer within arm's reach, the clientele complied with Afterlife's strictly no touching policy. As she passed by in the shadows Liara's gaze lingered on one writhing blue body, more out of a need for distraction than any real desire toward voyeurism. Her pulse inadvertently quickened just watching the deliberately provocative undulations. As the dancer trailed both hands up her inner thighs, Liara could see just how easy it would be to lose herself in such a display. Although it was hardly the time for such fantasies, she could not help but imagine herself wearing the same enticingly revealing outfits whilst dancing for Shepard. It was a ridiculous notion. Even if sex was on the cards in her immediate future, her dancing would be more suited to eliciting laughs. Liara dragged her gaze away from the half-naked asari and forced herself to focus on her real reason for venturing into Afterlife.

Aria T'Loak made no attempt to conceal the fact that she was watching her approach. Liara only had to glance up at the raised platform that dominated the upper floor of Afterlife to see the Queen of Omega casually observing her. Having visited T'Loak on her throne before, Liara was knew exactly how effective the vantage point was. It made everyone, regardless of their own internal convictions, feel like a supplicant. It was a position that grated on Liara more than most. Her mind had already been made up. She would not thank Aria or act as though she was doing her any favours. She and Shepard were there of their own free will, they could leave at any time and they were not beholden to Aria for anything. Liara had more than enough credits and support of her own. Through its very nature as a criminal hub, Omega had always been an integral part of the Shadow Broker's network. Despite the recent upheavals and her own neglect, Liara still had more than agents in place.

The crusty Turian at the base of the stairs merely grunted at her as she approached. Liara supposed that was his way of letting her know that Aria was expecting her. She did not hasten up the stairs, taking her time as she forced herself to find a measure of composure.

When she ascended the final flight of stairs, Liara found herself looking at Aria's back as the Queen continued to survey her domain. The trio of bodyguards – one batarian, two asari – all regarded her with unrestrained suspicion as she invited herself to take a seat. Aria glanced over her shoulder, a smirk gracing her regal features.

"Dr T'Soni. I take it you enjoyed your holiday in…well, wherever the fuck it is on Earth that Mack has his hidey hole?" Aria asked.

Liara was genuinely surprised at the civility of the greeting. "New Zealand, and yes, Mr Macklin was most…accommodating."

"Fuck. I expected him to be pissed off when I gave you that damn hovel of his," Aria growled in a disappointed voice. "Stubborn bastard always did do the opposite of what you'd expect."

Aria turned to face Liara. Instead of sitting down where she was, she circled around the table like a predator eyeing up its prey. Liara merely relaxed into her seat and met Aria's gaze with an impassive, almost bored expression. She caught a heady, robust scent as Aria stepped into her personal space. The other asari finally stopped with her legs astride Liara's. She then remained standing as she stooped forward with a predatory smile on her face. Liara already knew what was coming. She pre-empted Aria by closing the distance between them herself and initiating the kiss. What followed was purely a contest. As Aria savagely stroked the length of Liara's tongue with her own, the younger asari responded by dragging her fingers hard against the nape of Aria's neck. It lasted only a few seconds, but Aria was smiling broadly when she straightened. She lowered herself onto the seat opposite Liara whilst maintaining a respectable distance.

With Aria's eyes never leaving her, Liara was forced to discreetly wrestle her breathing under control. She nonchalantly crossed her legs and placed both arms across the top of the sofa, much in the manner that Aria was accustomed to doing herself.

"I knew I'd regret not fucking you," Aria said in a throaty voice. "Now I'm forced to use my imagination to hear you squeal…and I hate working that hard."

"I do not share that regret," Liara replied calmly.

Aria laughed. "I never said you had to be a willing participant, T'Soni." She tapped her fingers on the hard surface of the couch. The sound was drowned out by Afterlife's pulsing heartbeat. "Still, I expect that you will have your hands full reacquainting yourself with Shepard. Let me know when you tire of being fucked in the same way over and over. Soldiers have no imagination. Afterlife has an invitation-only suite where you can get in touch with some of your…carnal needs." Aria ran her tongue over her upper lip. "Even I make an appearance from time to time."

Liara inadvertently remembered the recent moments where Shepard had recoiled from her touch. Their 'reacquainting' would be a slow process, and certainly nothing along the lines of what Aria T'Loak implied. She forced a lazy smile onto her face. "Perhaps."

The nonchalant manner successfully masked her discomfort with the topic. While her physical relationship with Shepard often felt as natural as breathing, it had always been an intensely private. She was very much determined to keep it that way. As thrilling as it was to toy with the prospect, Liara had absolutely no desire to let Aria act on her innuendo.

When a waitress brought a tray of drinks, Liara waved her away with a polite motion of her hand. "Shepard and I want nothing more than to keep a low profile on Omega."

"Ha!" Aria snorted contemptuously as she snatched a drink from the tray. "Shepard can't help but interfere. It's in her annoyingly virtuous nature. You've been here two days and I honestly expected to hear reports of her laying waste to entire districts by now." She downed the contents of her glass in one swift movement. "However, I have heard nothing. Then you show up alone, Dr T'Soni. So far, I have respected your desire to remain discreet. Although now I suspect that Shepard is avoiding me…or is it a question of you keeping her from me?"

"If you want Shepard to trail around after you like a pet, Aria, I think you will find she is not amenable in the slightest," Liara replied coldly. "I believe her answer would be something along the lines of 'go fuck yourself' but then again, I do not want to speak for her."

Aria's expression hovered between fury and amusement. Then her lips curved upwards into a small smile. "I do not want another pet, I merely missed our chats. Her perspective on things always differs from mine. I get tired of people constantly agreeing with me. It's always nice to have a few people around who are willing to speak their mind…even if they do end up dead ninety-nine percent of the time."

Liara did not wait to be dismissed. She rose gracefully to her feet. "Not everyone can play the game."

"Indeed." Aria cocked her head to one side. "Oh...and Liara? Don't misinterpret my support as charity. You did me a service when the rest of the galaxy didn't give a fuck, but I won't hesitate to act if you and Shepard upset the balance of power on Omega."

_Aria T'Loak is nervous,_ Liara thought with a measure of satisfaction that she did not let translate onto her face. Liara had long suspected that Aria felt something approaching respect toward Shepard, but she had not thought that the Queen of Omega would go as far as acknowledge a possible threat to her own rule. Even with her own formidable resources as the Shadow Broker, Liara knew that taking Aria down would be difficult bordering on impossible. That coupled with the fact that neither she nor Shepard had any desire to oust the current Regent meant that her fears were largely unfounded. It was, however, a fortuitous position to be in.

"We are here purely for the scenery," Liara replied.

A throaty laugh followed and Liara breathed a discreet sigh of relief. "I have a feeling that I am going to enjoy your presence on Omega immensely," Aria replied. "I would have you tell Shepard to try and avoid picking fights, but we both know she won't listen. Pass on my regards and let her know if she gets bored, I can provide her with a list of heads that need separating from bodies…or an invitation to the suite I mentioned earlier."

Liara inclined her head briefly, before turning to make her exit. It was only when she had merged back into the relative safety of Afterlife's masses that she let out a much deeper exhale. The meeting had gone better than she had expected, but she was still unsettled. It was one thing for Aria to hold onto her preconceived notion of who Shepard was, it was quite another to maintain it in reality – especially when that image had since been shattered in the aftermath of war. Shepard was broken and once Aria found out, she would undeniably eat her alive.

* * *

 

Most cities possessed elements of beauty when viewed from a distance. Noise, stench and crowds receded, harsh details were smoothed out into aesthetically pleasing shapes. A myriad of colourful lights easily created an illusion of warmth and vibrancy. However not even distance could disguise the gritty, dark undertones of Omega.

The world beyond the apartment window was made up of contrasting shadows. The dull lights did not create warmth so much as draw attention to the darkness. It was the type of city that drew both the weak and the strong into its depths and did not let them leave. The apartment was near Omega's apex. From her perch on the window sill Shepard had a dizzying view downwards into the depths. It was as though a colossal scythe had carved the precariously built city in two, splitting open the closely compacted layers. In seeing a glimpse into the inner workings of the city, Shepard was reminded of the rotten core of an apple.

To avoid any sense of feeling as though they were indebted to Aria T'Loak, Liara had purchased their apartment outright. Although it in what was generally referred to as the 'nice' part of Omega, it had obviously been empty for some time. Its owner no doubt one of the unfortunate souls killed during the fighting some months earlier – the body having been incinerated, ashes cast out into space. Even a thorough clean had done little to erase the lingering musty smell and overall sense of emptiness – hardly helped by the depressing tan-coloured décor throughout. Although Shepard wasn't cold, the sudden loneliness caused a shiver to pass down her spine. She glanced at her omni – Liara had been gone less than an hour.

With her backside having long since gone numb, Shepard climbed down from her spot and began to pace. A large open space downstairs served as kitchen, dining room and main living area. An illusion of size was created by the fact that there was no furniture save for the couches that lined the wall beneath the window. The shelves held absolutely nothing, and a series of gleaming kitchen appliances that Shepard did not even know how to turn on let alone use. Her cooking skills extended as far as shoving a box of pre-prepared food in to be waved. A broad flight of stairs led upward to several rooms off a narrow hallway. Two similar bedrooms shared one tiled bathroom. The master suite overlooked the same impressive view as the living area, but otherwise the rooms were bare of any ornamentation. There was also a third room tucked away securely at the back of the apartment that Liara already had designs on as a limited office space. Overall the apartment, although of a decent size for a city hacked out of an asteroid, was Spartan and bland.

Shepard briefly contemplated trying to sleep, but after having slept throughout most of their journey to Omega, she felt awake and alert. Her midday meal lay largely untouched and unappetising on the window sill where she had been sitting. In short, she was bored.

Shepard paused in the middle of the open living space. She clearly remembered her promise to Liara not to venture outside, but the walls were steadily growing more oppressive by the minute.

_There are only more walls out there, Ev,_ she reminded herself. _More walls and less locks_.

With a promise to herself that she would not venture far, she exited the apartment and made her way out of the narrow corridor beyond. With her hood pulled down low over her forehead, her face was left mostly in shadows. Omega's citizenry would not even be aware that the former Commander Shepard was strolling in their midst.

For some reason or another, Shepard had spent a relatively large amount of time on Omega at various stages of her life – mostly that time involved running gun battles with mercs, but some of her fondest memories were those she had spent with Liara during their shore leave. For all Omega's faults, Shepard felt more at home on the station than she ever had on Earth. A person could easily lose themselves here for the simple reason that no one gave a fuck – not unless you owed them money. No one paid her any attention as she skirted the edge of one of the larger courtyards. Even in this 'affluent' area, large piles of rubble had simply been cleared to the outskirts. Several street vendors were half-heartedly trying to attract passers-by with their wares, creating some sort of subdued atmosphere. However, at best it simply created a sense of desperation – all mirrored in the faces of the citizens she passed. Even though the Cerberus occupation had ended seven months earlier, clearly it had etched deeply into the everyday consciousness of Omega.

Almost from the moment she entered the courtyard, Shepard knew that someone was following her. She felt momentarily guilty that she had ignored Liara's advice, before it was supplanted by a dangerous exhilaration. Instinctively she left the courtyard to draw her shadow into a more secluded area without giving any consideration to the fact that she was in no shape to take on one merc let alone a whole group. The Phalanx pistol that Liara had given her earlier had been left forgotten in its holster in the kitchen.

_You're definitely losing your edge_ , she chided herself as she nonchalantly took a set of steps downward. Her sole weapon was a last resort - her left hand, concealed within the glove Miranda had given her before leaving Earth.

Shepard had to admit that whoever was following her was good, but they were untrained. The first mistake was to be marked in the first place. From that point it was a simple exercise to draw them closer without giving away any hints that they had been made. It did not take Shepard long to realise that, despite some idle threat of danger, she was enjoying herself.

_Okay, I was bored, but was I bored enough to deliberately find myself a fight?_ she mused. _Maybe a small fight._

As far as she could tell, she had just one tail. Shepard had caught a few brief glimpses of a slight figure – definitely either a human female or an asari, leaning toward the latter judging by the graceful manner of movement.

Cognisant of the unpleasant possibility of Liara arriving back at their apartment to find her gone, Shepard realised that she could not stretch out her game indefinitely. She selected a secluded corner of an otherwise busy street before folding herself discreetly into the shadows. Shepard remembered a similar exercise from her ICT training before she could pass to N4 or N5, she couldn't remember precisely. A small grin curled one corner of her lip as she noticed the hooded figure looking for her in an agitated manner. With one swift movement, Shepard grabbed her tail by the back of her jacket and dragged her into the alcove. There was a slight feminine cry when she slammed them up against the wall.

"Why the hell are you following me?" Shepard hissed. She reached out and jerked the hood away from the individual's face. "Who-" The remainder of her demand died on her lips.

She was an asari. In the darkness Shepard couldn't be sure of her exact skin tone, but it was dark and her crests streaked with a lighter colour that might have been a shade of pink. Although the asari’s eyes flashed indignantly at having been manhandled, the anger barely masked the underlying fear. Shepard had never been adept at guessing the ages of asari, few humans were, but even she could tell that her captive was young. She wore a battered set of old commando leathers that were too big for her and the jacket which Shepard currently held by the lapels. There was nothing on her person to indicate that she was Eclipse or any of the other merc bands that were endemic on Omega but Shepard could not rule it out. Dozens of the asari she'd killed in the past would have been almost as young.

"Why were you following me?" Shepard asked in a slightly gentler voice.

"Because you look like Commander Shepard," the asari replied simply. Even her voice sounded youthful.

"Shepard's dead," was the abrupt reply. _Shit. Liara's going to be pissed._

"I heard the rumours from Earth, I'm not stupid," she replied indignantly. "But I knew Commander Shepard, and you look a hell of a lot like her."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. The asari was clearly lying. "You _knew_ Shepard?"

She bit her lip nervously before replying. "Well, not exactly…I mean, I sort of knew her." A small sigh escaped her lips. "Okay, maybe I never actually met her, but I followed her around enough the last time she was here to know what she looked like…and she looked exactly like you but with shorter hair and all these orange scars over her face. Sounded like you too."

"Doesn't make me her." Instinct told Shepard that the young asari wasn't a threat…but that didn't make the situation any less inconvenient or annoying.

Shepard released her hold on the jacket and the asari immediately smoothed down her lapels as though the coat was something other than a ragged cast off. She took one step to the side so she could study Shepard's profile and her smug grin broadened. "You're definitely Shepard. I remember the first time I saw you in Afterlife-"

"Are you even old enough to get into Afterlife?" Shepard asked crossly, wondering if she ought to just walk away and forget the whole incident. A horrible sensation gripped the pit of her stomach when she wondered if the asari had been one of the dancers she had spent so much time ogling.

"I'm older than you, human!" The asari straightened and tilted her chin up, but she was still considerably shorter than Shepard. "Besides, no one in Afterlife gives a fuck how old you are. All that matters is if you can get in or not." She tilted her head to one side and her grin widened to a full-fledged smile. "You really like asari don't you? You were so busy staring at all the tits on display that you completely missed the expression on the face of that other human woman with dark hair, the one in your squad. I overheard her name. It was Lawson."

"Miranda?" Shepard let slip without realising what she had done.

"Miranda, yeah. You could tell she was jealous." The asari then laughed, pumping her fist delightedly at catching Shepard out. "I knew you were Shepard!"

"Quiet dammit!" Shepard hissed, pushing her back against the wall again.

The asari’s confidant expression slipped. "You wouldn't seriously kill me for recognising you…would you? Fuck, of course you would, you're Commander Shepard." She bit her lip again. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"What? No...I'm not going to kill you," Shepard said as she let her go yet again. She narrowed her eyes to play along with the assumption. "But I might if word gets out. I'll know exactly who snitched!"

"I'm no lousy snitch!" the asari protested, shaking her head. "My name's Mycea Kasos, but since you're Commander Shepard you can call me Myke."

"Okay…Myke, first rule – don't ever call me Commander Shepard…or even Shepard, it's just Evan. In fact, it would be great if you just stayed out of my way altogether – got that?"

"No way, you're new here – or new to living here at least. You need me!" Mycea protested readily "You need something, anything, I can get it. Plus you don't have a squad to back you up-" She cut herself off when Shepard looked dubious at this suggestion. She shrugged, acknowledging the fact that she didn't exactly look like squadmate material. "I can do other things. How about someone to run messages for you?"

"No promises," Shepard replied with an irritated grunt. "Maybe." She tugged her hood back down over her eyes and pointed firmly at the young asari. Although she found her enthusiasm slightly refreshing, Shepard had to suspect that she was probably working for Aria. "I'm leaving, you stay right there until I'm gone!"

"You got it, Comman- I mean, Evan," Mycea said with a salute. The grin returned. "I'm on a first name basis with Commander Shepard," she stated in a pleased voice. Her grin vanished just as quickly when she realised what she'd inadvertently said.

When Shepard departed the alcove, she made a point of lingering on the other side of the courtyard for several minutes. Eventually Mycea made an appearance, strolling nonchalantly out of the alcove. Her attitude was slightly feigned and completely ruined a few moments later when she made another fist pump before continuing on her way. Shepard shook her head in amused disbelief. _Shit, been here a day and I've already fucked up_.

She'd already made up her mind not to tell Liara about the incident even though there was no guarantee that her bondmate would not find out on her own. Although she made it back to the apartment without further incident, she found Liara had returned before her. She was sitting on the couch with a neutral expression on her face that unnerved Shepard distinctly. With some apprehension, she took a seat perpendicular to Liara with a carefully measured amount of distance between them.

"How was Aria?" Shepard asked.

"Her usual charming self," Liara replied. "I am still unsure whether she is pleased that we are here or simply anticipating using you as leverage at some future opportunity."

Shepard shrugged. "Either way, she's pleased. Surely a pleased Aria is better than a pissed off one."

"Agreed." Liara nodded. She narrowed her eyes toward her bondmate.

Shepard winced in preparation. _Here it comes._

"You did not eat your food," Liara pointed out.

"I went for a walk…outside, and all you can mention is that I didn't eat my lunch?" Shepard asked in surprise.

"I knew you would go outside despite the warning," Liara replied with a shrug. "But I did not expect that you would not eat your food. Next time I will tell you not to eat, perhaps then you will make some sort of effort."

When she picked up the plate and handed it across to Shepard, there was no choice except to take it. The mush looked just as unappetising as it had an hour earlier, but to humour her lover she started shovelling it into her mouth. It was only when she realised that Liara was watching every single mouthful, that she realised the annoying badgering was honest concern. Shepard remembered the moments during her captivity when she had stared at the reflection of the unrecognisable skeletal woman. Liara saw that woman, and it obviously scared her. She dutifully finished every mouthful of the food before setting the plate aside.

"Don't you get tired of telling me to eat or shower?" Shepard asked, only half-joking.

Liara shook her head. "No…although I do live in hope for the day when you can remind yourself of those things."

"I take showers!" Shepard protested.

With a slight smile, Liara reached out and swiped away a glob of food that had escaped Shepard's mouth and was still lingering on her chin. Shepard winced before drawing Liara into a hug to mask her awkwardness. The asari fell forward eagerly, tucking her head into the crook of Shepard's arm. They remained in silence for several minutes, Shepard in particular waiting for the tension to ease from Liara's body as she gently stroked her crests.

It was not lost on her that they were finally alone together. Everything that the Galaxy had thrown at them had culminated in this one quiet moment. Their agenda for the immediate future was simply to exist. A spartan apartment in the viper's nest of Omega was not exactly taken straight from her wildest dreams, but Shepard was prepared to work with it. She knew she needed the time to recover, her health, her relationship with her bondmate and her fragile sense of self that had very nearly been destroyed by Naomi Stone.

"You know you're not going to be able to keep me from Aria for long," Shepard said in a soft voice. "She'll want an audience with me."

"I know," Liara agreed with a shuddering breath.

If Shepard had slipped up in front of someone like Mycea Kasos, she dreaded to think what Aria would make of her. _Pathetic_ , was the most likely assumption. Before the tendrils of self-loathing could take root in her mind, Shepard rose to her feet, scooping Liara's already tucked body up in the process.

"Evan!" Liara protested. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you to bed…don't look at me like that, I'm not going to take advantage of you, not today anyway" Shepard said, straining to keep her voice as neutral as possible to mask the fact that she was struggling with Liara's weight. "You're exhausted, Li."

By some miracle, Shepard made it to the bedroom without dropping Liara or her breath turning into some sort of wheezing gasp. She deposited her on the bed with painstaking care and hunkered down to strip her boots from her feet. It wasn't until she had to rise to her feet again that she realised how much the simple action had taken out of her.

_I'm going to pay for that tomorrow,_ she thought as she started stripping Liara's jacket from her shoulders.

"We have an apartment," Liara mused quietly as she obediently raised and lowered her limbs whilst Shepard undressed her.

" _You_ have an apartment," Shepard reminded her, fighting to maintain some measure of composure as she peeled Liara's suit down over her shoulders to reveal bare skin beneath. "I'm your roommate…or live-in lover, whichever way you want to look at it."

"I prefer to look at it along the lines of whatever is mine, is yours," Liara countered, stifling a yawn.

Shepard looked up at the puce-coloured feature wall behind the bed. "Does that include having a say in the colour scheme?" she asked as she slowly stripped the tight layers from Liara's legs. This action included a great deal more touching than was necessary. "I've always liked orange…" _And I definitely like blue…_

"I knew you would be a pain in the arse to live with," Liara muttered as she wriggled out of Shepard's wandering grasp.

Despite Shepard's lingering touches, any further intimate contact was far from Liara's tired mind. Clad in her vest, bra and panties, she eased herself beneath the bed clothes and sighed gratefully when her head hit the pillow. Although she knew that she had more pressing matters to attend to than sleep, Liara could not stop her eyes from closing. When she felt Shepard's warm body tuck in behind her own, her resolve was completely shattered.

As she felt her bondmate's body relax into unconsciousness, Shepard remained awake. She allowed five minutes to be certain that Liara was asleep before she carefully extricated herself from the bed. Liara continued to sleep as she changed out of her clothes and into some of the Alliance sweats that Liara had brought with her. Even though the well-worn gear was her own, it hung loosely on her frame. With some reluctance, she peeled off the black leather gloves that Miranda had given her.

In her bare feet, she padded back out into the living area and eased her protesting body down to the floor. On the very first push-up, her still-healing shoulder wound protested with a sharp stab of pain. Shepard ignored it. By the twentieth, she could barely feel it.

Sweat formed quickly in the warm apartment. It soon coated her body like a welcome second skin. Although her body was still weak, she could push herself to a point where she was satisfied. On top of this, she exercised with the knowledge that Liara was safely asleep upstairs and the Alliance was on the other side of the Galaxy. For the first time since waking up almost a month earlier, Shepard did not have to consciously fight to bury her pain.

 


	19. Colony of Shattered Dreams

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2**

Scuttlebutt ran rampant throughout the _Normandy_ as soon as the crew learned that their destination had changed. Although everyone knew that Chasca was no longer their first port of call, no one on the lower decks had any clue as to where they were headed.

Fresh from shore leave, the overall mood on board the frigate was optimistic, possibly even eager. The old hands finally felt rested. They'd had their time to mourn and recharge. The FNGs in the crew were anxious to prove themselves in action.

Speculation about their latest mission ran from the plausible - the _Normandy_ was being deployed to respond to a surprise attack on a human colony, to the equally probable rescue of a stranded vessel. When the latter rumour was expanded to include a troupe of asari dancers bound for a pleasure club on Ilium, everyone knew that it had originated with a certain Flight Lieutenant.

Always somewhat of a pragmatist, Sam Traynor felt that her wartime experiences made her less likely to be given to flights of fancy. Her journey from the sheltered world of R & D to serving on the front lines of the war aboard the Alliance's most famous frigate seemed to be the stuff of dreams…or nightmares. Whichever way Sam looked at it, her life had become a surreal pastiche. Despite earning every one of her experiences the hard way, she felt like someone living a life that was not meant for her. Sam wasn't a hero in the same vein as Shepard or Commander Williams, she was just a soldier who had found herself on the _Normandy_ by chance.

Sam splashed an extravagant amount of lukewarm water over her face before pausing to stare at herself in the mirror. Her wet hair clung to her scalp. It was slick and almost long enough to reach her shoulders. She was long overdue for a haircut. Despite rolling out of bed only fifteen minutes earlier from a deep, dreamless sleep, she still looked exhausted. Unlike the rest of the crew, Sam felt flat. Try as she might, she could not even summon the enthusiasm to join in with the banter that filtered around the lower decks. Although it would have been extremely pleasant to lose herself in daydreams of rescuing grateful asari, Sam went about her motions with methodical movements. She let the towel fall from her still damp body and set about clothing herself in her Alliance uniform. The door to the women's bathroom swished open and she glanced across to see Bethany Westmoreland enter with a clearly enthusiastic expression on her face. Sam sighed. Bethany was at the end of her shift with nothing but chow, and rack time to look forward to. Just as Sam was thinking that the Corporal didn't need to rub it in, she paused and wondered when exactly had she stopped enjoying her work?

"Hey, Chief." Westmoreland grinned and dumped her toiletries down. She then leaned jovially against the washbasins and made no move to do anything other than stare at Sam.

"Hey," Sam replied warily, watching the other woman out of the corner of her eye. "Either you're really bored or you know something I don't."

The grin widened and Bethany's dark eyes flashed conspiratorially. "Perhaps I do. Perhaps I know why we're not going straight to Chasca."

Sam tugged on her jacket and zipped it up impatiently. "You too? Quit it with the asari porn fetish, Beth. We're not out here to have fun, we've got a bloody job to do."

Bethany straightened and held up her hands in surrender. "Woah, sorry. I didn't realise that you got out of bed on the wrong side, Traynor."

Sam was annoyed that she had lost her temper. She usually had a lot of time for Bethany. While Sarah Campbell was prone to being hot-headed, her fellow marine was often a voice of reason. "I'm sorry. I guess I haven't settled back into being back on active duty yet."

"No worries," Bethany replied quickly. She narrowed her eyes. "Although you were pretty damn quick to jump straight to the 'asari porn fetish' rumour." As Sam's cheeks coloured, the teasing remained mercifully brief. "This isn't just scuttlebutt. I overheard the Commander saying something about a distress call yesterday, then she gave Joker the final coordinates just before I finished my shift. Sam…it's Horizon."

It was like a punch to the gut. Hope tainted with the sting of fear. Although she was still yet to receive any official confirmation, Sam knew that her parents were dead. Horizon, her childhood home, was nothing more than a graveyard. However, despite all of this, Sam found herself moving toward the door in a brisk walk. Bethany's reminder that she had left her belongings in the washroom fell on deaf ears as she broke into a run toward the elevator.

"EDI, where is Commander Williams?" she demanded, sparing no pleasantries for her disembodied friend.

_{The Commander is in the shuttle bay,}_ EDI replied. _{Sam, you sound-}_

"Stow it, EDI," Sam interrupted in a terse tone. She had no time for EDI's patently ingenuous form of questioning. As well-meaning as it no doubt would be, she wanted answers not an inquisition.

When Sam emerged in the shuttle bay, she belatedly realised that her bare feet were protruding from the bottoms of her trousers. Not caring that she was probably breaking dozens of Alliance health and safety regs, Sam scanned the cavernous space. She found Ashley almost immediately. The _Normandy's_ Commander was hunched over the weapons bench. Her lithe frame was clad only in a skin-tight compression suit and her prized Black Widow was laid out reverently in front of her. As Sam marched forward, images from the dream that had made it difficult to even be in Ashley's presence were stubbornly shoved aside. By the time the other woman turned at the sound of footsteps behind her, there was only a resolute expression fixed on Sam's face.

In typical Ashley fashion, her gaze was immediately drawn to Sam's feet. "I think you've forgotten something, Chief."

Sam had no sooner asked herself how the hell Ashley had known when she answered her own question. _The sound of bare feet on the deck. They didn't make her a SpecTRe solely for her prowess with big guns_. "Sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again. But…scuttlebutt says we're going to Horizon."

She wasn't usually so forthright, but the combination of fear and hope made her desperate.

"Scuttlebutt, or a certain pilot?" Ashley asked, trying to keep her tone light. The visit from Sam had been anticipated. She turned around fully and leaned casually against the bench, discreetly studying Sam's defensive posture, the urgency in her movements and her gaze. "I'd wring his scrawny neck if I wasn't so worried about breaking it."

Ashley's quip failed to calm Sam. Instead her gut churned. In that moment she realised that the Commander already knew the question that had yet to leave her lips. Likewise, Sam already knew what the response would be. She had asked Shepard the same question once, and received the same answer. _You're not a soldier, Traynor_.

After several moments of silence Ashley peeled herself away from the weapons bench and shook her head softly. The sigh that whispered from Sam's lips was one of defeat. She watched without a word as Ashley turned her back on her and walked away. Her shoulders sagged. At least Shepard had done her the courtesy of making up a bullshit excuse as to why she would be left behind. Ashley would not even do her the courtesy of looking at her. As her nails dug into her palms, a part of Sam wanted to rail against the injustice of it all. To scream, to shout, to vent some iota of the helplessness she felt.

Angry, hurting, Sam reacted almost a split second too late as a large object came hurtling toward her.

"What the-" Not gifted with sporting abilities, it wasn't going to go down in history as a good catch. It was, however, a catch. Sam looked down at the light but bulky object and her eyes widened in surprise. Ashley had thrown a chestplate at her.

"Standard-issue Alliance hardsuit," Ashley called across the shuttle bay. Her voice was muffled as she rummaged in one of the lockers. Sam was still staring at the first piece in disbelief when her Commander returned with the rest of the suit cradled in her arms. "Ceramic-plated, self-regenerating shield capacitors and, most importantly, size small. Don't just stand there and gape, strip and we'll see if this kit fits you."

"But…ma'am…"

Ashley paused in the middle of laying the pieces of armour out across an empty work surface. A frown creased her flawless brow. "Don't tell me you weren't coming down here to ask if you could be on the ground team?"

"Yes – I mean no-" Sam winced as she lost track of what she was trying to say. "I was, I'm just…surprised."

"Don't make an offer if you're not prepared to back it up, Chief," was Ashley's blunt reply.

"No, ma'am." It was an order from her commanding officer and Sam moved to comply almost immediately. At first her fingers were uncooperative as she struggled with the fastenings and zips on her clothing. Eventually her movements became mechanical, ignoring the fact that Ashley was standing only a few feet away. The inane dream was forgotten, pushed to the bottom of a pile of concerns far weightier than her non-existent sex life. "I expected you to say no," Sam offered as she let her uniform fall to a pile on the deck. As she accepted the thick compression suit from Ashley's outstretched hand, she looked her in the eye. "Like Shepard did."

The Commander sighed as she studied Traynor's earnest expression. "I'm not Shepard, Sam," she said quietly. "But that doesn't mean I'll be any less pissed off if you screw up down there and get yourself killed. Clear?"

"Crystal, ma'am."

* * *

 

**Horizon, Iera System**

The actual reality of what Sam had agreed to do did not sink in until several hours later when she found herself being buffeted in the Kodiak on the way down to Horizon. Her armour clashed and scraped against the marines jammed in beside her – the real marines. Sam couldn't help but feel as though they were all staring at her. In her mind their accusatory gazes demanded to know why she, a former lab rat, was jeopardising the mission. The unfamiliar armour chafed at her neck and the Mattock assault rifle lying across her lap seemed light years away from the Avenger she'd used in boot.

Sam was on the verge of a panic attack when she glanced across the shuttle and caught Ashley's eye. The reassuring nod she received alleviated her fears. When Sam cast another glance around the interior of the Kodiak, she realised that most of the other marines didn't give a damn about her presence. The expressions on their faces told her that they were too caught up in their own concerns to pay any attention to her. The two 'freshies', Hwang and Swift, were obviously nervous on their first live op. Both tried to emulate the stone-faced stares as perfected by seasoned veterans like Lieutenant Fleeting and Gunnery Sergeant Petrova, but their obvious pallor made it into an expression of fright. It also made Sam realise that, while she too was nervous, she was not scared. Horizon had been her home. She was undeniably grateful to Ashley for understanding her need to be on the mission.

Even if they found nothing, Sam would be satisfied with the knowledge that she had tried.

* * *

 

On the opposite side of the shuttle, Ashley had surprised herself with how effortless it had been to reconcile her conscience with her decision to allow Traynor to be a part of the ground team. Although she had only caught the tail end of the conversation between Shepard and Traynor almost a year earlier, she had immediately recognised the pain in Traynor’s voice for what it was. Ash knew that, if it had been her family down on Horizon and she had been denied the opportunity to find out first-hand what had happened to them, she would not have handled it well. She had a suspicion that she would have been up on charge for striking a superior officer. When Liara had been taken from Alcyone, Shepard had moved heaven and hell and eventually sacrificed herself to save her bondmate. While Ash did not want to go as far as to label Shepard a hypocrite, she could not bring herself to deny Sam this chance. If that made her less of an officer than Shepard, then she didn't care. If the squad was to encounter trouble on the surface, the young woman would be surrounded by trained marines.

The thought that did disrupt her usual concentration was her brief comment to Sam. _I'm not Shepard_. It was a truth that Miranda had been striving to get her to admit for months and it had come without fanfare or any sense of relief. It was simply a fact. _Just because you've finally admitted to yourself that you're not Shepard, doesn't mean you can go and fuck everything up_ , she admonished herself. The weight that settled on her shoulders felt entirely different, but it was no less substantial.

_Miranda_. The _Normandy's_ return to active duty had left Ash with very little time to herself. She craved the persistent activity, but a part of her resented it all the same. There were very few moments to simply stop and think – to appreciate what she had. It wasn't correct to say that she didn't have the time to miss Miranda. Ash felt her absence underlying everything she did. An emptiness that left her constantly hungry. The time that they had been apart during their relationship outstripped the time that they had been together by a cruel amount. Doubting whether their circumstances would ever change left Ash floundering under the crushing weight of hopelessness.

"Commander Williams?"

Up front, Cortez was trying to get her attention. Grateful for the distraction, Ash rose to her feet. She navigated the heaving, bucking deck of the Kodiak like the seasoned vet she was.

"What have we got?" Ash gripped onto the back of Cortez's seat and leaned in close. She recognised the verdant plains of Horizon below.

"We've got groundside communication."

"The origin of the distress call," Ash assumed.

"No, ma'am," Cortez replied. "It's the Alliance, and they don't sound happy to see us."

A deep frown creased Ash's brow as she slipped into the vacant co-pilot's chair. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting in agreeing to investigate at Councillor Tevos's suggestion, but it wasn't the angry voice that barked over the comm a few seconds later.

_{Unidentified vessel, you are not authorised for approach. Turn around now or we will open fire.}_ The terse command set Ash's teeth on edge. _{This is your last warning.}_

Restraining herself from making a kneejerk response, Ash opened a channel. "This is Commander Williams, of the SSV _Normandy_. We are investigating a distress call from your location-"

_{This facility does not require assistance, ma'am.}_

Despite the interruption, the tone had shifted. Both her name and that of the _Normandy_ carried weight regardless of the situation. It was that respect that she planned to use.

"Nevertheless you will allow us to land," Ashley responded.

_{I'm afraid you don't have the requisite clearance, Commander Williams.}_ The voice was almost apologetic.

"I think you'll find that as Council SPecTRe I have all the clearance I need." Ashley had been saving that particular trump card. She had hoped not to have to play it in order to keep the _Normandy's_ presence within Alliance tenets. "Your defences will stand down and you'll transmit the vector coordinates for landing."

_{Err…yes ma'am. Transmitting the coordinates now.}_

Ashley turned back to regard Cortez. Her pilot was wearing a broad grin but she could not bring herself to share in his amusement. "Something about this smells off."

"Expecting trouble?" Cortez asked.

"Always," was her concise reply. The eyes of her squad were on her when she emerged from the cockpit. Ash searched out Sam and gave the young woman a reassuring nod. She had to believe that this wasn't going to turn into a giant fuck up. "We're not going in hot, weapons stay holstered, and everyone will follow my lead. As far as I can tell, these are friendlies."

"Friendlies? Then why are we even here?" Petrova asked with a slight scowl. Ash immediately thought her question masked the disappointment of a marine spoiling for action.

"What do you think we'll find down there, ma'am?" Fleeting asked, deftly rephrasing the Gunny's demand into something more appropriate.

Ash didn't want to admit that she had no clue, but she knew Horizon. It was the type of place where everything had a habit of turning to shit. Her first stint – surrounded by colonists who viewed her mere presence as Alliance interference – had been hell. The colonists had remained hostile even as the Collectors attacked, abducting most of the colony. Then there had been her own conversation with Shepard, bitter and angry when she ought to have been overjoyed to see her friend. Ash hated Horizon.

"Just stay sharp, marines," was all she offered.

* * *

 

Dr Carlson Snow's mood hovered somewhere between apoplectic and furious as he watched the Alliance-blue Kodiak come in low toward the landing platform. His dark eyes narrowed in irritation. He heard footsteps further along the corridor and turned away from the window to watch the young comms officer's approach.

"Would you mind telling me exactly why there is currently an unscheduled landing taking place on my station?" he demanded in an acidic voice.

"Well, it's from the _Normandy_ , Dr Snow-" he started to explain.

"I can see it's from the _Normandy_ , Lieutenant! What the hell is a squad from the _Normandy_ doing on Horizon?" Snow demanded. "I sincerely doubt that they're here to reminisce over fond memories! How the hell did they get authorisation?"

The young man tilted his chin upwards in an almost defiant gesture. "Commander Williams…she's a SPecTRe. It's all the authority she needs-"

"I don't need that bitch here interfering in our work.!" Snow spat angrily.

He ran a hand through his black hair and turned his attention back to the shuttle. From his vantage point, he could clearly see the marines filtering out of the shuttle. The tall woman at the forefront he immediately recognised. Although he had never met Ashley Williams, she was famous, her face plastered across recruiting posters from Earth to the Traverse. Snow let a sigh escape his lips. The facility had always operated on a limited timeframe, but they were supposed to control the manner in which everything ended, especially the dissemination of information to the outside world. As it was, he was going to have a difficult time convincing the SPecTRe of the value of the work they had carried out.

"Do you want me to contact HQ?" the Lieutenant offered. "Fleet Admiral Kessler would-"

"No. Kessler will find out soon enough." Snow was not looking forward to that conversation. "You should have consulted me before making the decision to allow her to land. As it is there's nothing to be done but bring everything into the open and implement procedures for closing the facility. You'll no doubt be answering to your superiors on Earth, Lieutenant. Return to your station, I'll deal with this."

Snow's lips pursed together in a tight line as he attempted to formulate the right words in his head to avoid the situation turning into a disaster. Their final plans had originally involved a purging of the facility once studies were completed. Cerberus's research data would be cached and the survivors would be allowed to live carefully controlled existences provided they adhered to a set of rules. This was about to be thrown out of the window. His only option was to plead the 'greater good' and hope that Commander Williams could be made to see reason. He knew very little of the woman other than the persona that had been created by the Alliance PR machine.

He was all smiles by the time he made his way outside onto the landing platform. Having been made to wait pending his arrival, Williams had an unimpressed scowl fixed on her face. The squad of marines behind her were all fully armed and armoured. Snow had to resist the urge to sneer.

"Commander Williams!" he welcomed her with an outstretched hand. "Dr Carlson Snow. I apologise for the delay. We were not expecting your visit and needed time to fulfil the necessary protocols." She accepted his hand in a crushing grip. He had to fight to keep a neutral expression. He tucked both hands behind his back so she could not see him flexing the one she'd almost crushed. "With your history I do not think I need to introduce you to Horizon."

"No, you don't," she replied curtly as she let go of his hand. Her voice was sharp and nasal. "I've already seen enough of this colony to last a lifetime. You can start by explaining what the hell kind of operation you've got going on here since, I presume, you are in charge?"

Snow stiffened. "It's an Alliance facility-"

"It _was_ a Cerberus facility," Williams interrupted him in an arctic tone. "Thousands of civilians were murdered here. So I'm going to ask you again, Dr Snow, what the hell are you doing here? Sanctuary should be a fucking big hole in the ground."

Williams was hard, unyielding. He would have called her a bitch to her face had she been any other upstart Alliance officer making such demands of him. As it was she was humanity's sole SPecTRe, possibly the most famous marine still living, and clearly not someone who would accept a bullshit explanation. Snow was beginning to regret his decision not to seek Kessler's advice.

"I think an explanation will be most effective whilst accompanied with a demonstration, Commander," he offered. "If you'll agree to leave your squad behind and accompany me, I think you'll find that we've been doing nothing except righting the wrongs perpetuated by Cerberus."

Snow continued to talk as they moved down into the bowels of the facility. He could not help but notice the firm set to her jaw as she studied their surrounds with barely concealed disgust. Most of the Cerberus plant and equipment was still in place – the reception areas which had welcoming unassuming refugees and below ground where the tanks and holding pens remained. Snow seldom ventured into that pit. For the most part it was sealed off, the manufactured creatures were dead, their ghosts left to linger in their own private hell.

"The Alliance orchestrated a clean-up of the facility in the wake of Commander Shepard's raid-" Williams snorted disparagingly – probably at the use of the word 'raid'. He ignored her as he continued, "Most of the lower sections were simply sealed and torched. At that stage of the war, there was neither the manpower nor the time to clear them out conventionally."

She offered a non-committal grunt in reply – clearly not wanting to agree or disagree with his reasoning.

"With the war over, Horizon was top priority for resettlement. Unfortunately, what Cerberus did here left lasting damage, not so much ecological, but in terms of the survivors-"

Snow had reached out to press his palm to a door mechanism in front of them when he felt a vice-like grip around his upper arm. The SPecTRe dragged him around to face the unrestrained fury in her gaze.

"What the hell do you mean by survivors?" she demanded harshly, urgently.

A single jerk of his head sufficed as an answer for the time being. Once she followed the direction of his nod, it took only a split second for her to lose interest in listening to him. He watched as Williams was instinctively drawn forward as though there was a tether around her waist, winching her toward a nearby balustrade. She stopped and placed both hands on the railing. He could not fail to notice the way her gloves went tight over her clenched hands.

He hovered behind her, watching her as she slowly scanned the scene in front of her. Snow had no need to see what he already knew so well. The 'cells' Cerberus had built for Sanctuary's refugees had the illusion of being compact but comfortable rooms, conveniences and comforts packed into a small space. However, nothing could really disguise the fact that they were essentially prison cells. The balcony overlooked five stories of cells, all stacked upon one another like the inside of a bee hive. The glass frontages offered the civilian occupants very little privacy.

"The clean-up team found them…the lucky ones anyway. The majority were tagged for processing, some had already been processed, others were in the midst of…experiments. My science team was brought in to do what we could for them. We lost dozens in those first few weeks, the transformations were unpredictable and…I lost people as well. We kept them here, isolated, safe, while we monitored, treated, did what we could for those who were suffering." The Commander did not turn around as he spoke. Her eyes remained fixed on the people on display within the panopticon front of her. None noticed the presence of a SPecTRe on the observation deck, they were all so used to being watched. "Those that are left are probably clear from infection-"

"Probably?" Williams whispered in a low, dangerous voice.

It was all the warning Snow had before she turned and, in a split second, had her gloved hand wrapped around his throat. She threw him bodily against the wall. The impact was accompanied by a sharp grunt of pain as the back of his head struck the hard surface. The fury of her reaction was reflected in her burning dark eyes.

"These people have been imprisoned here for almost eight months!" she spat. "How much longer are you planning on keeping them here on the chance that they may spontaneously turn into husks?"

"We don't...know-" Snow spluttered, struggling for breath around her tightening grip as well as trying to force the words out.

"You're the goddamn scientist! What the hell have you been doing with them? Do their families even know they're alive?" Williams demanded.

"Gah! It was...felt that-"

Her fingers tightened. "A yes or no answer is all I'm looking for, doc."

"No!" he gasped, more a hiss of air than an actual word.

* * *

 

Ashley felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over her. _No?_ Her fingers twitched and released Snow suddenly, as though someone had simply flicked a switch in her brain. The doctor was left to slump against the wall - gasping for breath with angry red welts on his neck. In disbelief, Ash turned her back on him to refocus her gaze on Horizon's colonists. It was only several minutes later that she realised she was standing with her mouth agape, slowly shaking her head. Her voice sat like a lump in her throat.

When the words finally came they were so thick she had to force them out. "Release them."

"I'm not authorised-" Snow's voice rasped.

"I am," Ashley interrupted harshly. "Let them out now. I don't care if one of them starts turning into a husk in front of you." _One could rip your face off and save me the trouble_. "If you or any of your staff so much as looks at them in a funny way, I'll make sure you know what it feels like to spend months in confinement."

"Yes, Commander Williams," Snow murmured quickly, almost inaudibly. His response reminded her of a petulant child – sullen as opposed to repentant – but Ashley could not summon further wrath. "What should I…what should we do with them?"

"Take them home," Ashley replied without thinking. Then she realised that they were already home. In their place, she would not want to remain on Horizon. "Wherever they want to go - Earth, another colony. The _Normandy_ crew will oversee the logistics."

With Snow's unrepentant obedience galling on her, Ashley was desperate to escape his company. The gazes of the Alliance personnel she passed flickered between suspicion and awe, but very rarely shame. She supposed that most of them thought they were simply following orders. The time-honoured soldier's excuse. Ashley scoffed. One of the more important lessons that she had learned from Shepard was that following orders was not always mandatory. While the same such approach to military service did not sit as easily with her, she was beginning to understand why such decisions were necessary. As Ash automatically made her way down towards the small crowd of bewildered, hollow-eyed colonists emerging from the main compound, she was overcome by the realisation that she and the Alliance were about to have a major divergence in opinion. It was an unsettling thought, especially with the fact that she had never considered any other career options for herself.

The gut-wrenching feeling worsened as she descended into the crowd of colonists. Upon seeing her Alliance issue hardsuit – customary blue with white stripes – they silently gave her a wide berth. Ashley felt her shoulders slump with the knowledge that they equated her with the people who had held them captive for months. She couldn't blame them. As she watched the faces move past her – full of fear and trepidation – a thought suddenly washed over her. With a determined expression on her face she started forward into the crowd, searching each face in turn for something familiar.

"Traynor? Does anyone know the Traynors?"

* * *

 

"This is bullshit."

It was one of the new marines speaking. Sam didn't know Hwang or Swift well enough to tell apart their clipped tones without looking at them. Shifting uncomfortably in her hardsuit, she turned to see Swift with a disgruntled expression on his face as he paced beside the shuttle.

"I thought we were going to see some action," he muttered. He spoke to his buddy, Hwang, but his voice was intended to be just loud enough to carry to the rest of the group.

Gunnery Sergeant Petrova turned and gave the young man a stern glare. "Just make sure that hard-ass attitude of yours holds up under fire, Swift," she said in a no-nonsense tone. "If you're crying like a baby when the gun fire starts up, I'll happily remind you of how much you wanted to see some action. Now stow it!"

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" Swift barked quickly. His pale cheeks deepened to a rather violent shade of red before he turned away.

Sam on the other hand was grateful for the lack of action, if not the inactivity. The squad had been standing on the platform for the better part of forty-five minutes after Ashley had disappeared inside. By now most had settled down into more relaxed poses. The old hands had all adopted an air of casual relaxation, although Sam suspected that they would be ready for action at the drop of a hat. Only Fleeting, as second-in-command, looked slightly apprehensive. With every passing minute that Ashley did not return, he cast another glance toward the facility. Oddly enough, Sam was unsettled but not as a result of Ashley's absence. She suspected that if the Commander was in life-threatening danger, they would have seen the resulting explosions and gunfire. Instead, there was an odd prickling sensation at the back of her neck that refused to disappear.

"Any war stories from the old _Normandy_ , Chief?"

It took Sam several moments to realise that Petrova was addressing her. She blinked rather gormlessly at the striking but sharp-edged blonde. All the while she struggled to appreciate the fact that Petrova was speaking to her as an equal. There were no gulfs between the techie and the marine, instead they were just two veterans who had both fought in the same war. Despite the realisation, Sam knew that as soon as she opened her mouth she would ruin this perception. Especially given that Sam could not think of anything to share that would resemble Petrova's definition of a 'war story'. A myriad of flashes burst like explosions in her mind. Most involved anxious hours spent at her station on the CIC whilst listening to the events taking place ground side. The most gut-wrenching had been Shepard's communication that James Vega was dead and Liara had been taken by Cerberus – hardly an exhilarating war story to be shared. From a first-hand perspective, Sam's experience was limited to the desperate moments on-board the _Normandy_ itself when an indoctrinated Miranda Lawson had taken her hostage. Sam was still of the view that those particular events should be limited to the specific people involved. She felt that it would be a breach of Miranda's privacy to share those moments.

"Um…well…" She was mercifully spared from continuing her pathetic attempt at a response when Fleeting finally spotted the Commander emerging. The squad leapt into attentive poses with the abrupt order that followed.

"Who the hell has she got with her?" Petrova squinted. "Looks like a couple of civilians."

Sam had lagged behind the marines and had only just spun to face the main compound when Petrova spoke. Unlike the expressions of suspicion or curiosity that the others worse, Sam's face immediately opened with wide-eyed, slack-jawed disbelief as she tried to process what she was seeing. All three figures were intimately familiar - Ashley with a pale, stoic expression on her face and the two individuals with her. Both seemed so small and frail whilst walking next to Ashley in her hardsuit. Sam's feet moved faster than her brain. They had her moving across the courtyard before she realised entirely what she was doing. Ignoring her squadmates at her back, and even the relieved expression on Ashley's face, Sam heard a carefree laugh bubbling from her throat as she ran.

Unused to the clunky hardsuit, she lurched and stumbled her way toward the pair.

"Mum! Dad!"

* * *

 

**Mindoir Approach, Attican Traverse**

Miranda Lawson loathed sentimentality – or at least that was what she had always purported to think. Her father had instilled in her an aversion to attachment of any kind – whether it was possessions or people. She had vivid recollections of one of her childhood instructors, Gray Spencer - an ex-N7 who had been left with an artificial arm in the wake of the First Contact War. While she had spent much of her time hating the man for his strict, almost cruel teaching style, as she had grown older she learned to appreciate the fact that his lessons were purely designed to help her survive and flourish within her father's regime. Even though he remained bitter, gruff and aloof, Gray was by far the kindest individual in her life – surrogate father, pseudo friend, and confidant. Miranda had been thirteen when her father explained, with a hint of delight in his voice, that Gray had been arrested for a chain of unspeakably violent crimes against young women. Despite her youth, Henry Lawson had spared no detail in his explanations. The overwhelming evidence had earned him several lifetimes in prison and the vehement hatred of his former pupil.

There were other 'lessons' as she grew older, several with equally callous implications for those involved, but Gray remained at the back of Miranda's mind. She recognised her father's manipulations even before dissecting the fabricated evidence herself. Having escaped her father's yoke, with Cerberus' resources at her disposal, Miranda had tracked Gray down. She had been devastated to learn that he had recently died in a violent penal colony in the Terminus Systems, her search having come scant weeks too late. It was a cruel remainder that she could not afford to care about anything, or anyone.

Although Miranda had physically escaped her father, the emotional prison he had created would take her decades to even begin to erode. Over the years, she had stubbornly clung to her privacy, her independence. Sentimentality had no place in her life – friendships, romance, there was no time for such inane distractions.

Now this claim seemed hypocritical to maintain in the face of her current state of mind. She _had_ loathed such things, now she was unable to quash the swirling emotions beneath her calm exterior. Miranda's sole concession to the turmoil she felt, was to tug at the stiff collar of her uniform in an effort to stop it chaffing her neck. Her expressionless gazed remained fixed on the orb seeming to hang below the ship – the mottled colours slowly coming into focus as distinct landmasses nestled amidst vast oceans.

"Looks almost perfect from up here."

It looked like a shithole. Mindoir was light years from anywhere significant and, most importantly, it was a hell of a long way from Ashley. Miranda was well aware of the speaker standing just behind her but she had far too much on her mind for a conversation – even if she had wanted one in the first place. The time that it would take the small transport to make the descent and landing was her last bastion in which to find solace. It was her time to lose herself in thoughts of her distant lover, not spend in idle conversation with someone she had already endured beyond her limited patience.

"I said, Mindoir looks almost-"

"I heard you the first time," Miranda interrupted curtly. "I didn't care then and I certainly don't care now." She felt a slight trace of annoyance when she realised that she ought to apologise for her tone. However as she turned to regard the civilian captain of the freighter, she was reminded just how much she disliked the man. The MSV _Hamilton's_ primary consignment were supplies for the colony, Miranda was the sole passenger. She was not gracious company at the best of times and her manners had steadily worn thin throughout the journey.

With several muttered words which may have been either indignation or apology, the captain retreated and left her to contemplate her view in silence. For the remainder of the trip, she managed to lose herself in memories of her recent shore leave, stopping only when she felt herself on the verge of giving into tears. While actually crying was absurd, Miranda felt an odd sort of pleasure in the fact that, had she been inclined to, she _could_ have cried. Despite Henry Lawson's best efforts, her innate sentimentality had not been stamped out in childhood – just well buried. Although she would have not admitted it to anyone, even her lover, it was not too far-fetched to imagine a future where she could simply live, laughing and crying over life's joys.

By the time the freighter landed at Mindoir's tiny, functional spaceport, Miranda had erased all traces of emotion from her face, straightened her uniform and settled into the no-nonsense façade that was almost effortless for her to maintain. When she gratefully disembarked the ship, her first reaction to Mindoir was that it was staggeringly hot. She had to resist the urge to strip off her jacket as she hefted her sea bag onto one shoulder and picked up her heavy armour case with the other hand. She had no sooner reached the bottom of the ramp than she felt a thin sheen of sweat form on her face. While there was some activity toward the rear of the freighter as several loaders jostled into place to begin accepting the _Hamilton's_ cargo, Miranda could see no corresponding welcome for her. With the temptation strong to seek out the nearest shade, Miranda began humping her gear toward the terminal building. Once probably architecturally striking with swathes of glass, the battered façade had simply been patched with scrap metal. Inside was almost deserted and a lack of climate control meant that it was even hotter than outside.

Miranda dumped her sea bag on the ground unceremoniously. Her armour case she set down with more care, and started in the direction of an officious looking woman with a datapad. She had gone no more than a few steps when her initial assessment of Mindoir as a shithole was proved accurate by the sound of a familiar voice.

"Just when I start to think the Alliance and I have reached our happy place, they go and fuck everything up all over again."

There was absolutely no need for Miranda to turn around to discern who had spoken. The voice was one that she would recognise even in the middle of a crowded room – albeit for all the wrong reasons. Rather than respond immediately – the resulting altercation would result in brig time at best and a court-martial at worst – Miranda paused and gave herself time to gather her emotions under control. She closed her eyes as she listened to the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, closing in on her. _The damn bitch could never walk anywhere quietly._ A single deep breath – in and out – was all she allowed herself. _You can do this, you're an adult, she's an adult,_ Miranda thought purposefully as she turned to face the smaller woman approaching her. _Who knows, she might have changed-_

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" was the equally venomous continuation. "What the fuck are you doing here, Cheerleader?"

Jack – biotic wunderkind, _Subject Zero_ , and complete antithesis of everything Miranda Lawson stood for – had not changed. Although her appearance clearly had. Although the sides of her head were still completely shaven, she now sported a strip of hair down the centre, culminating in a ponytail. In her typical style, Jack wore an approximation of an Alliance uniform – the short-sleeve jacket worn over a white vest with cargos that were clearly several sizes bigger than the ones she ought to have been issued. Her combat boots were only loosely tied. Her stance complemented her tone. She held her arms at her sides, both fists clenched. The expression on her face was stormy and openly hostile.

"I could ask the same question of you," Miranda replied coolly. She was trying to be nonchalant, but she had always found it difficult to retain her composure in Jack's presence. "I thought you'd be dancing in a cage somewhere, but no, you're here, making a mockery of that uniform and wasting my time."

"Ha!" Jack snorted. "That same uniform does nothing for your figure, Cerberus bitch. Are you sure you don't want something a little tighter so you can flaunt your assets?"

Miranda bristled. Her Cerberus catsuit had been designed for optimal functionality and comfort – not so she could flaunt anything! It was pure coincidence that she looked stunning in it. "Reverting to acting like a child, typical." Miranda folded her arms across her chest, determined not to sink to Jack's level. "Not that it's any of your business, but the Alliance has seen fit to post me to Mindoir."

The resulting smile that creased Jack's face made Miranda decidedly uncomfortable. "Gotta be my business, seeing as I'm your CO."

She shook her head in disbelief as she fumbled for something coherent to say. "Sorry…what?"

Jack straightened, the smile broadening until she bared teeth. "I think you missed out a 'ma'am' somewhere along the way Second Lieutenant Cheerleader."

It was only at that point did Miranda notice the faded Captain's bars on Jack's scruffy, definitely non-regulation jacket. She was unable to stop the colour draining from her face. "You have got to be kidding me," she whispered.

"You have got to be kidding me, _ma'am_ ," Jack replied smugly. She folded her own arms across her chest in a relaxed manner. Miranda's own stance had become a tight knot designed to keep herself from keeling over. "Seems as though someone further up the chain saw fit to promote me for 'outstanding wartime service.' It's Captain Zero, I know, sounds fucking lame, I've got everyone calling me Jack…but in your case I think we'll stick to ma'am."

"In your dreams, you tattooed freak," Miranda hissed instinctively.

Across the space of a few minutes, she was prepared to throw away all her hard work in suffering through basic training, OCS and her future career with the Alliance. She remembered her justifying her decision to join up, but now it was all irrelevant. Serving under Jack was inherently impossible. The _Hamilton_ would be leaving in a few hours. She'd gladly suffer the captain's company if it meant getting off Mindoir and away from _her_.

As Miranda gathered up her gear, Jack frowned. "Okay, minus you, where the hell are the rest of my reinforcements?"

Miranda looked over her shoulder. "What do you mean? There was only me."

Jack's smug expression slipped altogether. "You're shitting me? I was promised two full squads and they sent me a fucking Cerberus whore."

"Fuck you, _Jack_ ," Miranda responded. She was thoroughly annoyed that simply being in Jack's presence was enough to reduce her to behaving like a cretin.

"Why aren't you still walking away, Cheerleader?" Jack sneered. "Go on, piss off then. There's no one to pamper you here – you'll only find sweat, boredom, and MREs."

It had been Miranda's intention to walk away. However, there was something in the other woman's expression that gave her pause enough to reconsider her impulsive behaviour. Walking away would be admitting defeat. She sighed and turned fully to face her new CO. If staying pissed Jack off, then she'd bloody well do it – regardless of all the times she'd have to bite her tongue or restrain herself.

"I'm not walking away…ma'am," Miranda replied, adjusting her sea bag so it was more comfortable on her tense shoulder. She could feel the first twinges of a headache.

Jack straightened and she responded with a curt nod that could not be called friendly by any stretch of the imagination. She muttered something that might have been 'follow me' and proceeded to walk away at a rapid pace, without offering to help Miranda with her gear.

"So…" Miranda fumbled for something to say as she followed Jack. It had nothing to do with filling the silence. She was more interested in proving that she could handle the situation like an adult, and also that she was not having difficulty in keeping up with her despite the mountain of gear she was lugging.

"Shit, you're not seriously going to ask how I am or what I've been up to?" Jack looked over her shoulder and scowled.

"Maybe I'm curious as to what someone like you would have done during the war," Miranda replied.

Jack offered another snort in reply. For several minutes Miranda thought that was the end of any conversation between them. "Got offered a gig by the Alliance after the shit that went down through the Omega-4 relay," Jack eventually offered in an almost civil tone. "Teaching kids - biotic kids - on Grissom Academy."

Miranda had to stifle a snort of her own at the thought of Jack teaching anyone. However as the conversation continued, she was surprised by the affection in Jack's tone as she spoke of 'her kids.'

"When the war broke out, Cerberus showed up on our doorstep pretty early on. They wanted the kids, wanted to sign them up. When they didn't go willingly it turned into an all-out shitfest. Those Cerberus cunts tried to take them by force, not caring how many they killed in the process…but I don't need to explain Cerberus's tactics to you."

The other woman was clearly bitter. "I never condoned killing children, Jack," Miranda said quietly. They'd already had their disagreement over whether Miranda knew anything about Pragia. She didn't, but that had not mattered to Jack who had been spoiling for a fight and looking for someone to be a scapegoat.

Ignoring Miranda's comment, Jack continued, "A distress call went out, I suppose I was hoping for the _Normandy_ to show up – you know, old friends helping each other and all that shit – but I guess the great Shepard was too busy off saving the rest of the Galaxy."

"You can't seriously expect Shepard to have turned her back on her work to evacuate a handful of students," Miranda said incredulously. She said it even though she knew it was exactly the sort of thing Shepard would have done had she known about it. Miranda resented the implication in Jack's tone. Shepard had helped her on Horizon, but it was simply fortuitous that the _Normandy's_ mission had coincided with her own private battle against her father.

"Fucking ridiculous right?" Jack agreed with her. "Guess I just thought…well, fuck, I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. Knew you'd side with your old fuck buddy though."

"Can you not just have a conversation without resorting to insults and cheap shots?" Miranda demanded heatedly. Even though it was true, hearing Shepard referred to as her 'fuck buddy' was almost enough to send her straight back to the space port. She drew in another deep breath. "What happened on Grissom?"

"The Alliance eventually did send a team in, got the remainder of my kids out. Wasn't much of a mercy though, they were saved just so they could be thrown into the front lines against the Reapers." Jack rubbed at the back of her neck. "When the war ended, someone was grateful enough to let me choose somewhere quiet." She gave Miranda a long look. "Quiet? Ha! I wouldn't have come within a million miles of this place if I'd known you were going to end up here. What did _you_ do to deserve this honour, Cheerleader?"

Miranda studied what little she could see of Mindoir. So far all she had seen was the interior of the space port and several dirty, streets with clusters of prefabs. However in the immediate distance she could see an abundance of the colour green. Beyond that, barely discernible, were the mountains that Alves that had referred to. Now that Miranda knew Jack was here, she realised that she had been sent to the colony to both get her out of the way, and possibly even to make her suffer for some unidentified transgression. Her gear suddenly felt as though it weighed several tons. She didn't know what she had been thinking in trying to forge a career in the Alliance for herself.

"I'm here to do my job, ma'am," she replied in a tight voice, refusing to look her nemesis in the eye. _What would Ash do?_ As well as she knew her lover, Miranda couldn't decide whether Ashley would bite her tongue and follow orders, or resort to her fists to sort out her differences. She resolved to believe it would be the former. _Are you going to find this hilarious, Ash, or just plain wrong?_ "You give me space to do my job, and this will be bearable."

Jack grunted disparagingly. "I give you seven days, Cerberus bitch, a month at the most. If you step out of line in that time, I will put you down."

"I'd like to see you try," Miranda retorted. She'd seen Jack in action on all too many occasions. The petite psycho was undoubtedly talented, but she was also unpredictable and undisciplined. Miranda was innately confidant of her own abilities.

Despite her resolve, Miranda already harboured her doubts. Without Shepard to mediate between them, she suspected that she and Jack would be tearing each other to pieces in a matter of days, not weeks.

"Fuck you, Cheerleader."

"Fuck you, _Jack_."

 


	20. Shit, Vomit, and Toenail Clippings

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2**

Ashley barely felt guilty as the ashen faced Yeoman disappeared from view, ostensibly to carry out her demand that she fetch Fleet Admiral Kessler immediately. Having been on the receiving end of bullying from superiors all too often, it was not Ash's style to employ the same tactic now that she was near the top of the command structure. In the wake of what she had discovered on Horizon, one disgruntled Yeoman was a minor concern. As she waited for the Admiral to make an appearance, she alternated between various stances – gripping the console with both hands, folding her arms firmly across her chest, and clasping them behind her back. She settled for the latter, hoping to at least maintain an air of professionalism even if Kessler did balk at her demanding summons.

By the time a representation of the man himself formed into view in front of her, Ashley had managed to compose herself. She had expected Kessler's face to be contorted with rage, or at the very least pursed with disapproval, but the man was smiling at her!

"Captain Williams, I hear the _Normandy_ paid a visit to Horizon to greet the surviving colonists? The story aired on ANN last evening – brilliant work, simply brilliant," he said, his voice had a booming quality to it over the QEC. "We had planned for their integration to happen under more controlled circumstances, but I think having humanity's only Spectre fortuitously present more than made up for it."

With each successive word, Ashley felt like she was being buffeted by forces from both sides. As she struggled to comprehend what Kessler was saying, she felt varying degrees of anger, frustration, and confusion. To make matters worse, she thought of so many responses and questions that she could not force one word out of her mouth.

"It was slightly sticky that your information source was outside of the Alliance, but that was easily glossed over for civilian digestion," Kessler continued smoothly. "With the colony now poised for resettlement, there are plans to rename the capital 'Shepard.' A fitting tribute, don't you agree? The crew of the _Normandy_ will be present at the dedication ceremony of course, newly paved streets named after serving crewmembers."

_Shepard hated Horizon_ , was the first though that emerged clearly in the chaos of Ashley's mind. "Sir…with all due respect…" Ashley fumbled for something to say. "Captain?"

"A well-deserved promotion, Williams," Kessler replied quickly. "We've rolled out the Horizon PR campaign complete with your new rank." He simply beamed at her for several moments, appearing extremely self-satisfied.

"Sir-"

"If I might be frank, however Captain Williams," Kessler interrupted as his smile disappeared behind a stern frown. "It would be best if someone in your position of influence did not appear to be so readily influenced by aliens. Humanity must take care in this new world to distance ourselves from external pressures, especially those of the Council."

Ashley felt bile rise in her throat. She clenched her teeth and fought it down as she struggled to find a decent reply to Kessler's barely concealed vitriol. _I'm going to regret this, she thought_ , clenching her fists against her sides. _But this isn't what I joined up for_. "I'm a Council SPecTRe, sir, those 'external pressures' you refer to are my job-"

Kessler's eyes bulged. "You might want to reconsider your words, Captain-"

"As a matter of fact-" Ashley interrupted, squaring her shoulders "-I do want to reconsider. If _I_ might be frank, I call bullshit on the whole Horizon fiasco. There were no plans in place to release those colonists, or even to simply let their families know that they were still alive. Had I not been informed by the Council, they would still be there now – rotting in their cells. Of course none of this gets out because your so-called news outlets don't know the meaning of the word _truth_." Ashley paused – torn between enjoying the vibrant shade of red on Kessler's face and questioning her own sanity. "I'm going to keep quiet on the condition that you let the _Normandy_ and her crew do their job from now on."

"Am I to understand that you're blackmailing the Fleet Admiral?" Kessler demanded incredulously.

Ashley couldn't quite believe it herself. She folded her arms across her chest to keep them from shaking and hoped she projected an unyielding stance. "Blackmail? If you want to call it that, I'm just trying to do my job amidst the political clusterfuck in this Galaxy. From now on, the _Normandy's_ missions will be dictated by my duties as a SPecTRe, not pissing around making PR appearances and shoring up support for the Alliance. Is that understood, _sir_?"

"Williams, you're out of your depth trying to play this game," Kessler replied in a low, dangerous tone.

"Then I'll stick to doing what I know best," Ashley said firmly. "Being a soldier. Is that all, sir?"

"Dismissed, Captain." Kessler had to force the words out through his clenched teeth. "Although this conversation is not over."

Kessler's image winked out emphatically – almost like slamming a historical telephone down in someone's ear. Desperate to escape the stuffy confines of the comms room, Ashley turned and fled the scene, stumbling out into the War Room. The slightly more open space did not provide the release she was looking for. Ashley felt light-headed, it was the only warning she had before the room spun violently and she felt herself fall. Pitching forward onto her hands and knees, Ash's stomach gave a violent heave. Mercifully, having not eaten all day, nothing emerged. As she crouched on the floor, she became aware of footsteps rushing toward her and was overtaken by embarrassment. Even as she tried to drag herself to her feet under her own steam, she felt a firm grip beneath her armpit assisting her.

"I'm fine," Ashley murmured before she could see who had helped her. She didn't sound fine. It sounded as though her words were muffled, or even being spoken by someone else.

With a concentrated effort, she glanced upward to find Leon Grenier staring at her with a clearly concerned expression. When Ashley saw her XO's eyes widen and his lips part in shock, she realised just how awful she must have looked. Slipping quickly into damage control mode, Ashley discreetly tugged her arm out of Grenier's grip and straightened to her full height. Her pose was almost robotic, but holding her shoulders square and her back ramrod straight was the only way Ashley could remain upright.

"Commander…when was the last time you slept?" the XO asked carefully – already guarding himself against an irritated backlash.

"It's Captain," Ashley corrected him – her tone jaded as she reminded herself just how surreal the whole encounter had been. "Apparently promotions are the new court martials."

Grenier frowned. "Um…ma'am, you wanted a report when the civilian transfers were complete. If you'd rather we saved this until you've seen Dr Chakwas-"

"Don't start with me, LC," Ashley snapped, her irritation surging to the forefront in almost record time. Having Dr Chakwas temporarily relieve her of command was the last thing she needed. She held out her hand expectantly. "I'll take that report and review it in my quarters."

The XO handed the datapad over with exaggerated reluctance. "Yes, ma'am."

Ashley sighed, forcing herself to slow down rather than rip the pad brutishly from his grasp. The last thing she needed was to lose the respect of her crew. Although they were barely two weeks into their first stint together, Grenier had already proven himself to be a capable XO. His meticulous attention to detail and apparently effortless rapport with the crew complemented Ash's own brusque, impatient style. Although she had yet to see him in action, she was no longer assessing whether his credentials were impressive enough to keep him on-board. However, liking the guy and sharing her private fears with him were two entirely different things.

"Good work, LC. I'll hit my rack after reading this, you've got the ship," Ashley informed him.

"Aye, aye, ma'am," Grenier nodded. "I take it you'd rather not see Dr Chakwas?"

"I'd rather not," Ashley replied, even managing a weak, conspiratorial grin. "I'm prescribing myself chow and rack time – they'll do wonders."

Chow consisted of a protein bar and a glass of water – all that was on offer with the limited supplies she kept in the Crow's Nest. Heading to the Mess would necessitate a procession through the ship, pausing to talk to her crew. After her stilted conversation with Grenier, she didn't want to face the prospect of creating rumours that the Captain's sanity was unravelling.

As Ashley sagged on the edge of her bed, elbows resting on her knees and a half-chewed lump of food sitting in her mouth, an absolute sense of disillusionment settled over her. Although she was disturbed to know that the Alliance had been contentedly keeping those on Horizon a secret, this was nothing compared to the manner in which Kessler had so neatly swept it all under the rug as soon as it was exposed. Although it was the one ace up her sleeve, Ashley doubted whether her threat to go public actually carried weight. Although she refused to acknowledge her own fame, it nevertheless did exist. Even as a famous war hero, she could not see herself standing toe to toe with the Alliance and emerging unscathed on the other side. It was more likely that she would not emerge at all.

_I'm a damn marine_ , Ashley thought to herself as she tossed the wrapper of her meal onto the floor. _I do my job, follow orders, and leave the political crap to others._ However, in continuing to follow orders, Ashley was now convinced that she was not doing the job she had signed on for. On one level, her instincts were screaming at her to run, but at the same time she could not bring herself to back down – especially not after issuing such a strong challenge to Kessler.

Feeling usually isolated, Ashley forced herself to stand up even though all she wanted to do was flop onto her back and fall asleep. She made her way past Shepard's model collection, her gaze panning over the miniatures out of habit. Her terminal winked into life at her touch and she keyed in the necessary commands to record a message via an encrypted channel. A loud exhale escaped her lips before she started in an effort to clear at least some of the stress from her voice.

"Hey, M. Not sure where you'll be when you get this – hopefully they've at least got hot running water. I know how grumpy you get when you can't have a shower." Ash almost had to suppress a chuckle as she imagined Miranda pout upon listening to the message. It was a brief moment of levity. "Access to some form of comms would be good, you know…so you can tell your better half where the hell you are-" Ashley cut her bitter tone short. She had managed twenty seconds of positivity before letting her mood overtake her. Although the last thing she wanted to do was send Miranda a miserable message, she couldn't bring herself to inject any sort of optimism into her tone. "I guess there's going to be a lot to fill each other in on – new crew members on the _Normandy_ , most are shaping up to be pretty decent I suppose – my XO in particular. We made an unscheduled trip to Horizon which…well, it's not a place we'll ever go for a holiday. The Alliance…I found…shit, I just can't go into more detail right now other than to say it was hell, M, pure hell…and without even a damn shot being fired." Ashley drew in a ragged, shaking breath. She had the awful suspicion that if Miranda suddenly turned up at the door to the Crow's Nest, she'd collapse into a sobbing mess. She desperately need to hear the twang in her lover's voice, see the vibrant blue of her eyes, and feel the strength in her embrace. As it was, she had nothing other than her own fears. "I wasn't even going to mention this…but I think I've done something incredibly stupid. I may have fucked up completely…I don't know, I was always crap at political stuff. I need your advice, Miranda. Send me a message when you can and we'll…talk. I miss you-" Ash's throat went dry. Her emotional state felt all the more ridiculous when she reminded herself that she had been with Miranda just several weeks earlier. She had to take a deep gulp of water before she could finish. "I love you."

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

"I don't need to remind you that Aria _is_ Omega," Shepard said in an almost petulant tone. It didn't help her mood that she was lying on her back on the cool floor beneath half a dozen feed monitors. Although each was bolted to a supporting frame, she didn't trust the construct – mainly because she had done most of the work herself. Destruction, not construction, was her speciality. "It's one thing running the Shadow Broker's operations out of Hagalaz or the _Normand_ y but to run it out of _Omega_? Li, I know how incredibly smart you are, surely you can see the problem here?"

Shepard stopped trying to force a thick cable into its slot and peered up at her bondmate. With a console in between them, she could only see a sliver of Liara's face – however she could see enough to know that her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pursed in disapproval.

"I am incredibly smart, Evan," Liara replied tersely. "Obviously much smarter than you give me credit for-"

"And modest," Shepard muttered under her breath, resuming her task.

"-and I assure you that Aria will remain none the wiser as to the nature of my operation. Besides, only half the network will be controlled from Omega at any one time. A hub on Earth will be assisting with day-to-day communication and rebuilding the network to optimal capacity."

A low growl escaped Shepard's throat as she struggled with her task. She felt a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead, formed by Omega's balmy internal temperature and her exertion. "And who the hell do you trust enough to have so much responsibility?" Shepard was not angry at Liara, just frustrated, but it emerged in her tone.

"Your mother," Liara replied calmly. The asari frowned and continued, "The system is still offline. Just what are you doing down there?"

"My _mother_?" Shepard had stopped working again. Although she had heard the following question, she ignored it. "Since when are you in touch with my moth-" Belatedly realising that she had sworn not to call Hannah by that title ever again, she cut herself short. Abandoning her task altogether, she sat up. Her forehead caught the side of the console with a firm thud. " Fuck!" she snapped, scrubbing her palm against the throbbing. Meanwhile Liara was observing her with an inappropriately serene expression on her face as though there was nothing untoward about the fact that she had been in contact with Hannah Shepard. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I clearly heard you say that you did not want to have anything to do with her," Liara pointed out.

"But you're working with her!" Shepard replied, as though that completely negated her previous statement.

"And Mr Macklin," Liara added. "Surprisingly, they work extremely well together."

There was an undercurrent in Liara's tone that Shepard did not appreciate in the slightest. She immediately recognised the slight flush to her bondmate's cheeks for what it was. Even though she had experience of a physical relationship, Liara still found it embarrassing to talk about a sex life other than her own. The fact that she was insinuating that Hannah was involved with Pericles Macklin left Shepard feeling decidedly disconcerted. She had never had to face the fact that Hannah might have a sex life because there had never been anything to discuss. Or if there had been she kept it well concealed from her daughter. Shepard only had vague memories of meeting Mack – his gruff, chiselled exterior and lewd sense of humour did not paint a picture of a man she expected Hannah to be attracted to. Then again, just how well did she really know Hannah Shepard? For her own sake, she decided to remain silent on the topic.

"Evan?" Liara interrupted her thought process. One of her 'eyebrow' markings was arched. "The cable?"

"It won't fit," Shepard explained helplessly.

Liara snorted impatiently and gestured for her to move aside. Shepard eased her stiff body back into a standing position while Liara took her place. As she stretched gratefully, it felt as though every muscle in her body was protesting. Although her rigorous workout regime had begun to restore her body, it also left her aching as she adjusted to the increased physical activity. Each day was slightly easier, she could push herself farther and feel less pain.

Liara let out an irritated grunt. Shepard couldn't see most of her upper half, but watched as she shifted and appeared to be levering something into place. A few moments later, the feeds began to whirr and chirp with eager, relentless activity.

"It would have helped if you were trying to put the cable in the appropriate slot," Liara chided her as she emerged.

Shepard held out her hand, helping to tug Liara to her feet in one swift movement. They came eye to eye. There was a playful twinkle in Liara's gaze as Shepard accepted her own laughable mistake. All that effort, and it had been the wrong damn hole. Her wounded pride did not let her make the crude comment that was on the tip of her tongue. However it was slightly assuaged when Liara nuzzled lightly at her neck, breathing rapidly from the effort of hauling the heavy cable about on the floor.

"You're usually exceptionally good at finding the correct slot," Liara murmured softly, between depositing gentle kisses on Shepard's warm skin.

_Woah_. Shepard's eyes opened wide in surprise when she realised that her bondmate had beaten her to the punch line. A surprised chuckle burst from her lips, remaining on her face as a contented grin when she realised, in that moment, that she was undeniably happy. "We were bickering," Shepard commented contentedly. "Like an old married couple."

Liara drew back slightly. A frown marred her otherwise perfect brow. "I do not understand. How is it good to be bickering like an old married couple?" The frown deepened. "What does that even mean?"

"It means, Liara T'Soni, that it feels as though we've been together forever," Shepard tried to explain.

"Forever? Are you trying to tell me you're bored of me?" Liara demanded.

"Oh god…no!" Shepard shook her head quickly, realising that she was terrible at explanations. She reached out and cupped Liara's chin with the warm palm of her right hand. "I'm comfortable with you, Liara. We're comfortable together. And most importantly, we've got the time to bicker about absolutely nothing! We can bicker all day if we want to," Shepard suggested playfully.

"Speak for yourself!" Liara chided her gently, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder where each of the newly restored feeds was already demanding her immediate attention. She sighed reluctantly.

"You're terribly cute when you're irritated," Shepard replied, drawing Liara in close against her body to enjoy the warmth and solidity it offered. The simple embrace felt wonderful. In that moment, she did not want to be anywhere else. "In fact, you're…"

Her voice trailed off when she felt Liara's body start to undulate against her own insistently with a raw, clearly primal, intent. As her body responded predictably to the ministrations, Shepard's own responses followed. Her movements began to complement Liara's. They moved in tandem, their hips rocking together to create a tender friction. It was subtle, almost safe, at first. For several moments, Shepard comfortably basked in the warmth and the simplicity of just being happy.

Everything changed when she felt the heat between her legs flare into a desperate hunger. The subtle warmth became a raging inferno. Her happiness was smothered by an all-consuming lust. When their lips finally met, Shepard was only seconds away from forcing her hand beneath the band of Liara's army-issue sweatpants. Warning lights flashed at the same time that Liara drew away gently, leaving them both breathing heavily, Shepard more so. As she started at the warm smile on Liara's lips, she realised that the images playing behind her eyes were not of mutual passion, but ones where she simply took what she wanted. She had been so ready to throw Liara up against any hard surface and take her with the intensity that she craved – just like the monster that she had suspected herself to be. Even as Shepard tried to remind herself that the picture that Naomi Stone had tried to make her believe was not real – had never been real - she still felt sick to her stomach. It was the first real intimacy that they had shared since their reunion and she was having difficulty laying the trauma of the previous month to rest. Something that should have been beautiful and effortless had been ruined.

"Hmmm," Liara murmured playfully. Uncharacteristically, her own contented state of mind made blissfully unaware that anything was wrong. "I would love to continue what we have started, but with the feeds just coming back online I fear my attention is needed here."

"Yeah, I understand," Shepard replied quickly – a little too quickly perhaps.

Liara frowned. "Is everything alright? The feeds could possibly wait…but I was hoping to have as much time as possible-"

"No, it's fine!" Too quickly again. Shepard forced what she hoped was a relaxed grin onto her face. "The Shadow Broker has work to do, I don't want a diplomatic incident or a small-scale war resting on my head."

Liara pursed her lips in disapproval. "You know that is not funny, Evan," she chided. "Still, I am looking forward to spending some time alone with you…later. Maybe there will actually be candles."

Shepard couldn't flee the room fast enough. A suggestion that would have ordinarily elicited a playful response from her left her feeling clammy and nauseous. She spent several anxious minutes pacing the length of their living room before deciding that she needed a walk. The deeper that Liara delved into her work, the longer she would remain there. While Shepard had grown unaccustomed to avoiding Liara, it was her only solution.

_Or you could, you know, actually talk to her_ , Shepard's subconscious reminded her in a snarky tone. It was solid advice. It was the _only_ advice. While she did resolve to at least try, she wanted to clear her head first. Rather than resort to working out – she'd already pushed her body that morning – Shepard tugged on her gloves, grabbed a hooded jacket and left the apartment.

Over the previous two weeks Shepard had expanded on her familiarity with Omega, coming to know both the Yakai District where their apartment was located and the Tuhi Commercial District well enough to navigate without getting lost. Shepard found that she could stay completely inconspicuous whilst remaining in the shadows and on the fringes of Omegan society. With her hood drawn down low over her face, she looked like every other human on Omega. Much to Liara's disgust, she'd been 'shopping' at one of the second-hand market stalls. The leather pants fitted her like a second skin, but the scuffed jacket had seen better days. No one recognised the slender human with long dark hair and wearing old leather clothing as being the former Commander Shepard.

_Or 'The Shepard' as I'm known now._ Shepard snorted. It was a fucking ridiculous title that she'd done nothing to earn. _All I did was my job_. _How many other soldiers sacrificed themselves to stop the Reapers?_ With Liara's network still in the throes of being re-established, they had remained very much in the dark about affairs in Earth Alliance Space and any fallout from her escape. Omega's independence and autonomous existence meant that no one really cared what was happening on Earth. In a way, while the lack of knowledge frustrated Liara, Shepard found invigorating. At time she would chide herself for hiding away from her former life, it felt very much like she had run away and simply left her friends to fight their own battles. Other than the very small circle of individuals who had rescued her, no one knew she was alive. Ash, who was rightfully at the helm of the _Normandy_. It still surprised and amused her that the wartime romance she started with Miranda was still going. Sam Traynor – nervous, almost bubbling at times, but so efficient and capable. Garrus and Wrex, who both felt like her (very) strange brothers. Was Tali living on Rannoch with her people? And EDI – the fact that she had abandoned the AI's body in Alberta still haunted her. All were friends, living their lives without her. She desperately missed them all.

Regrets were one thing, but Shepard had since discovered that she was exceptionally good at pushing things to the back of her mind. It did not mean that she didn't care about her friends, just that she was accepting that she wasn't in a position to help. _Besides, when did everything have to revolve around me? They've managed without me for almost a year._ Amongst the many thoughts at the back of her mind was the niggling suspicion that she would eventually be forced to show herself, but now was not that time – nor, hopefully, anytime in the foreseeable future. If that was selfish then Shepard didn't give a fuck.

The Tuhi District was only quietly bustling. While the time of day held almost no meaning in Omega – as business simply never stopped – there was a natural ebb and flow that led to quieter periods. At all times there was the same patina. It was a combination of odours, textures and sounds that were uniquely 'Omega.' Almost all were individually unpleasant, but combined together they were simply familiar. The acidic, dirty taint to the air that often left the insides of her nostrils black, the constant whine of machinery, and the rust that seemed to coat every surface – as though Omega was an ancient, neglected cruise liner.

"Hey, Evan."

Shepard had stopped groaning at the now familiar greeting when she accepted that there was nothing she could do. It just happened that the one person on Omega who had recognised her was the one person, other than Liara, who always seemed to know where she was. Shepard picked Mycea Kasos out quickly. The young asari was leaning nonchalantly against a wall, her own hoodie drawn up over her head in an imitation of Shepard's. Her head crests meant that she couldn't pull it off in the same way and it hid none of her face. Her grin was as plain as day.

"How's things?" Shepard nodded her greeting. Her acceptance of Myke's presence also came about when she realised that she was only marginally annoying. In fact, Shepard enjoyed her undemanding company. All Myke had initially wanted was to simply be allowed to hang out with her. Shepard just wanted to _be_. Both had needed a friend.

Myke shrugged in response to the question. "Same shit, different day." It was a phrase she'd quickly picked up from Shepard. It sounded ridiculous coming from someone who, as far as Shepard could tell, didn't have a job. "You?"

"Pretty much the same." Shepard had not told her about Liara. Although she clearly indicated that she wasn't alone on Omega, Myke never probed. The only information she begged for were old war stories.

When Shepard continued walking, Myke fell into step beside her. They walked in companionable silence, both browsing the market stalls casually, without any intention of actually buying anything. It wasn't until they came to what passed for Omega's 'food quarter' that Myke's interested was piqued. When she caught her staring, Shepard realised that she had never really noticed how gaunt the asari was. She was rake thin beneath her clothes and her cheeks had a hollow cast to them.

"I'm actually kind of hungry." Shepard was nothing of the sort. The abnormally large meals that Liara insisted she eat in an effort to gain weight left her feeling constantly full. "I hate to be a pain in the arse, but do you mind if we grab something to eat?"

Although the food smelled mouth-watering and probably tasted great, the street vendors on Omega were not known for adhering to anything resembling a hygiene code. She paused by a stand where a wary looking human was selling something which resembled an old fashioned burger served between two pieces of flatbread. There were no vegetables on offer and the meat was marketing as simply 'meat', but Shepard glanced across to her companion and saw her unconsciously lick her lips.

"Yeah, whatever." Mycea shrugged. "I've got some time to kill." The asari stepped lazily toward the stall as though she had somewhere better to be. The vendor was waiting expectantly as she perused the limited menu. "Give me a deluxe with everything…and extra peppers, and don't hold back on the hot sauce either. And I'll have a side of-" She paused and turned to look at Shepard expectantly. "You are paying for this, right?"

Shepard had to stifle a grin. "Yeah, I'm paying."

A few minutes later, Shepard gingerly took a small nibble of her own much smaller meal. While she couldn't quite get herself to forget the unknown source of the meat, it was pleasant enough for her to be able to swallow a mouthful. It was hardly necessary, Mycea wasn't paying any attention to her pretence. The asari was blithely perched on one of the wide-topped balustrades that overlooked a precipitous drop into the levels further down. Her earlier nonchalance had given way to unbridled enthusiasm as she somehow managed to wrap her mouth around the huge hunk of food clutched in both hands.

As she was working on her latest mouthful, Mycea tried to say something around the food. The words emerged as an unintelligible mess.

"You're going to have to try that one again," Shepard suggested. "Less food, more words."

Mycea winced and swallowed. Shepard could practically see the huge morsel travelling down her throat. "Why do you wear gloves all the time? We're on Omega, it's not cold."

When Shepard glanced down, she saw the leather gloves Miranda had given her on Earth. "We _are_ on Omega," Shepard replied, subconsciously clenching her left hand into a fist. She could picture the white substance flexing in a poor imitation of flesh. "You of all people should know how filthy this place is."

Mycea screwed up her face. "You're scared of dirt?"

Shepard shrugged. "And shit, vomit…and elcor toe nail clippings."

"It's Omega! What do you expect?" Myke replied with a laugh. It lasted all of a few seconds before she tore off another chunk of her food and began chomping loudly, the question of the gloves already forgotten.

The pair of them sat in companionable silence, punctuated only by the sound of the unfortunate food being devoured by at least one of them. Shepard's own burger sat almost untouched until Mycea had finished hers. The asari was noisily licking her fingers when she caught sight of it and suddenly stopped. "You not going to eat-"

She didn't need to finish the question. Shepard passed it across without a word and Myke grinned her thanks.

When the second burger had gone the way of the first, she belched and slumped into a contented slouch on her perch. Shepard had to admit that Myka was the most un-asari like asari she had ever met. She tried to recall whether Liara had ever belched in her presence but she doubted it. Even trying to imagine such a thing was difficult. When she did, she had to stifle a laugh at the ridiculous mental image she conjured.

"Have I got sauce on my face?" Mycea demanded, obviously thinking she was being laughed at.

Shepard shook her head. "No...well, actually yes you have, but that's not what I was laughing at. You're just extremely different to other asari I've met."

"You obviously don't know all that many asari then," Mycea replied, scrubbing at her messy face with the sleeve of her jacket. "We're not limited to being acolytes, whores or mercs you know." One corner of her lips curled up wistfully. "Although when I was younger I did dream of being a merc – a full-blooded Eclipse girl. I was fucking stupid."

"What happened?" Shepard prodded gently. It was her first brief glimpse into the young asari's past.

"I realised that being a merc meant you had to kill people," Mycea replied matter-of-factly. "And I didn't really care for the outfits you wear as a dancer so…" Her voice trailed off.

With curiosity not being one of her inherent traits, Shepard nevertheless found herself fascinated to know more. She also realised that she enjoyed the simple process of talking to someone. After weeks being imprisoned with relatively little company, it was refreshing. "So you sit around waiting to meet fugitives?"

Myke laughed, flashing her white teeth. "That was pure chance – a lucky one on my part. No…I help out where I can."

Shepard waited for her to offer something further, but apparently that part of the conversation was over. An unobtrusive alarm beeped and Mycea checked her omni-tool. The device had clearly seen better days, it flickered in an out of resolution.

"Shit, I gotta bounce, Shep," she announced suddenly. She hopped down lightly from the balustrade. "Got a place to be. I owe you for the food."

"Don't mention it." Shepard was shaking her head insistently even as the asari peeled away into the crowd with a last wave.

Shep. Only one person had ever called her that with any regularity. Shepard channelled the slender thief as she waited for several moments before following her new friend. Maintaining a discreet distance was relatively simple in the bustling marketplace. Although she lacked Kasumi Goto's tactical cloak or her innate ability to walk without a sound, it was noisy enough for her presence to be masked. Even as Mycea left the Tuhi District and moved into Fumi, she managed to follow. The Fumi District was still largely residential even though it had been damaged extensively during the Cerberus occupation. Following the restoration of essential systems, a great deal of resources had been diverted to rebuilding homes. Regardless of her ruthlessness, Aria knew how to look after her people. Even so, it was still home to a lower class of citizen – all trying to put their lives back together.

The asari had absolutely no inkling that she was being followed and did not look back once. Instead she moved quickly and purposefully. Her small body darted almost unseen between Omegans, and she spared no glances for anyone. Less than ten minutes later, at the edge of the Fumi District, she appeared to have reached her destination. She disappeared inside a non-descript building. The neon sign outside had ceased even trying to work, but Shepard could still make out the silent letters – _Clinic_. After a brief moment of hesitation, Shepard decided not to follow her inside.

Turning her back on the clinic, Shepard suddenly felt guilty that she had even thought to follow Mycea in the first place. She tried to tell herself that it was a simple case of curiosity but knew that it went deeper than that. Other than Liara, there was absolutely no one she could trust on Omega – not even the young asari.

Their apartment was largely silent when she returned. Neither she nor Liara had made any attempt to decorate their Spartan surroundings. Liara had been consumed with getting her network back up and running. Meanwhile Shepard, having never owned an apartment of her own, did not have a clue about interior decoration. All she knew for sure was that she did not want to look at another fish tank as long as she lived. When Liara had explained that she had taken Horatio from the _Normandy_ , she was grateful. However she knew that the little guy was far better off on Earth with Hannah and Mack – even though Shepard knew full well that the former didn't approve of pets. It will be good for her, was Shepard's blunt reasoning. Hannah was crap at caring for a child, perhaps she could do better with a fish.

Bounding up the stairs two at a time, Shepard knew exactly where she would find Liara. Sure enough, her bondmate was standing in the exact same spot where she had left her a few hours earlier. The movements of her fingers across the haptic interface were fluid and animated, almost like a dance. Shepard leaned casually against the door frame, folding her arms across her chest almost as a form of armour.

"I know watching news feeds isn't your favourite pastime," Liara said without actually turning to look at her. "But you may want to catch up on the developments on Horizon."

"Horizon?" Shepard frowned as she moved forward to one of the feeds. She recognised the first images immediately as the camera panned over Sanctuary. Her lip curled into a sneer, wiped a few moments later when she listened to the voiceover inform her that the Alliance had finally been able to release Horizon's colonists from their quarantine. "There were survivors at that facility?" Shepard asked incredulously. "We found only husks…Banshees…" Her voice trailed off as she realised the full horror that she had left people behind, still trapped in the facility.

The image changed to accompany the reporter's enthusiastic mention that the whole release was overseen by Captain Ashley Williams of the _Normandy_. Shepard watched intently as they showed several brief shots of her friend – marvelling at her rapid rise through the ranks. Although she felt relieved to see Ashley looking tired but otherwise none the worse for wear, _Normandy's_ commanding officer also wore an incredibly stormy expression in every frame.

"Ash didn't look happy to be there," Shepard mused quietly as the story finished.

"Indeed," Liara replied ominously. She did not elaborate further and instead brought up an image that had clearly been enhanced from the news feed.

Shepard squinted at the grainy picture showing a small group of people embracing. There was undoubtedly something familiar about the young female marine but Shepard couldn't place her. Not for several moments. When she eliminated the hardsuit from her mental images, she gasped. "Traynor?" she exclaimed.

"Samantha Traynor," Liara confirmed. "And both her parents – Nicholas and Radha – alive and apparently well."

With a further pang of guilt, Shepard remembered Sam's anguished plea to be a part of the team to Horizon. She'd refused on practical grounds, but now that decision was coming back to kick her in the gut. As Shepard stared at the image and dwelled on the ANN story, she felt as though a strange film of her life was being played back to her, one in which she had been removed completely. Seeing Ash and Sam brought on conflicting emotions, none of which she could reconcile within such a short space of time.

"I'm hungry," Shepard announced suddenly, simply for the sake of saying something. Having had a few mouthfuls of marketplace food, she was still not actually hungry. Nevertheless, she was driven by a sudden need to get away from the omnipresent feeds that seemed so intent on reminding her of obligations that she was still trying to relinquish. She wished she was back in the market, eating burgers and belching alongside Myke. "Do you want to eat with me?"

Upon hearing the question, Liara finally stopped working and turned to look at Shepard. When her eyes shone with unrestrained love, Shepard felt her seemingly irrational fears begin to dissipate immediately. They remained like that for almost half a minute before Shepard recognised the apologetic slump to Liara's shoulders.

"You've got a lot to do," Shepard answered for her. "I'll bring you something."

"Thank you, Evan," Liara replied – her voice was warm, but strained. "The Broker's network has never recovered from the war, then I went offline for several weeks…I fear that if I do not work quickly, it will disintegrate altogether. I cannot afford to let that happen."

"I understand Li, I really do." Shepard paused in the doorway. "Is there anything else I can do to help?" The offer was half-hearted at best.

Liara shook her head. "No, you've done enough." Trying not to let her relief show, Shepard grinned and was about to walk away when Liara continued, "Be wary of Mycea Kasos, Evan."

Shepard stopped in her tracks. "What?" She knew better than to be surprised that Liara knew who she was, still it did unnerve her. "Do you know something I don't?"

"Beyond her name, I have been unable to locate any information about her," Liara explained as she brought up a grainy picture of the young asari. Shepard recognised the back of her own head in the picture. "From experience, those are the sorts of people who have something to hide."

The warning was unnecessary. "Li," Shepard said in a low tone. "Stop spying on me."

"Shepard-" Liara's reply was panicked.

"I know you're just trying to keep me safe," Shepard said in a mild, soft voice that she hoped would alleviate the sudden tension between them. "But stop it…please?"

"I…I am sorry, Evan." Liara met her gaze evenly, but there was a trace of awkwardness there that reminded Shepard of early in their relationship. "But Omega…Aria…"

Shepard nodded. "If Aria wants to get to me she will, regardless of anything either of us can do. Whatever happens, I'll face her on my own terms." She was aware of the tension in the air, heightened by Liara's discomfort and her own simmering resentment. "I'll fix us something to eat. Please promise you'll take a break to eat with me?"

Liara managed a small smile. "I promise."

 


	21. Dreaming About Going Blue

**Rannoch, Tikkun System**

Although almost a year had passed since the end of the Reaper War and even longer since the geth had reached a truce with the Quarian people, seeing them still unnerved Tali. She had lived most of her life knowing the geth as the enemy of her people. It was hard to break the habit of drawing her shotgun and shooting them on sight. Those thoughts still came unbidden, but these days she didn’t even need to carry a weapon.

Being on Rannoch made everything easier. In her first weeks on the surface, the planet had been as alien to her as the _Normandy_ SR-1 once had – even more so due to its massive scale. It was no longer simply a case of getting lost on the way to Engineering. Instead of bulkheads hemming her in from all directions, she had the endless blue skies of Rannoch overhead and the arid soil beneath her feet. The reassuring hum of machinery was replaced with that of a breeze rustling the hardy leaves on a _nasi_ tree.

With a strange environment around her, Tali found it easier to accept the presence of the geth. Her whole world had been thrown upside down. What difference did it make that the former enemy were now the engineers and the manual labour upon which they depended?

Tali was about to embark on yet another journey, one which could have lasting consequences for her people. She eyed the few geth she passed on the wide streets with distinct apprehension. At her side, Garrus reached out to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. The weight of his touch was momentarily reassuring, but it wasn't enough to keep the tension at bay. She turned to look at him. Even now she could still savour the fact that she was seeing him through her own eyes as opposed to the visor of her helmet.

"You know you can back out of this," Garrus said in his gravelly drawl. "No one's forcing you to have the procedure done."

Tali sighed in response. "Then what kind of hypocrite would I be? I've been advocating for greater cooperation with the geth since the beginning." It was simple enough to say, but when she rolled the thought around in her mind, it seemed more ludicrous by the minute. "Keelah, Garrus...having geth programmes injected into my suit? Has breathing unfiltered air turned my brain to mush?"

Despite the anxiety in her voice, Garrus found it difficult to suppress a smile. Her brain seemed perfectly adequate. His on the other hand had long since turned to mush in her presence. As her almond shaped green eyes regarded him with genuine concern, he reached out and hovered his hand close to her cheek. It was near enough that she could feel the warmth from his body, but not so near that he was bringing their skin into contact. Garrus ached to run his hand over her pale lips, but he had to make do with simply looking.

"You wanted to be able to feel the dirt between your toes, Tali," he offered. "From what you've explained to me, this might bring about that dream in years as opposed to decades."

Her expression became wistful...or at least he thought it was wistful. Tali still had some difficulty translating her emotions to her face after spending her life with her features hidden behind a mask. She still conveyed much through body language, but she had perfected several expressions – most notably a frown of displeasure.

"Your descriptions were undeniably terrible," Tali said, referring to Garrus's promise to describe in detail how it felt to touch dirt. Simply saying 'it's dirt, it feels like dirt,' didn't quite satisfy her. She squared her shoulders determinedly and resumed her walk. "I can do this...for my people. If I can demonstrate that it's safe, then more will follow."

"And the next time you see Ashley or Sam, you might be able to reach out and shake their hand," Garrus suggested.

Tali paused mid-step. "Will I?"

"Will you what?"

"See them again?" Tali asked. What had originally been a way to take her mind off the upcoming procedure, became a concern of a different sort. "I don't think we can just invite ourselves on the _Normandy_ any longer. Not with all the rumours coming out of Alliance space." She drew in a shaky breath. Garrus...do you think they eventually mean to go to war?"

The Turian offered a stern snort in response. His flanges momentarily flared. "You need to stop listening to those scaremongers on the Admiralty Board, Tali. The Alliance is only doing what any sensible military should be doing in a post-war environment. They're consolidating, shoring up defences and restoring what was lost – much as my own Government has been doing."

"Has the Turian Government closed its borders and refused all external aid?" Tali pointed out, her voice rising. When Garrus did not offer a reply, she continued, "The Admiralty are right to be concerned. _You_ should be concerned."

Tali stopped walking altogether. She propped her back up against the side of a nearby building and gazed skyward. In the months since the end of the war, the face of Rannoch had been subtly transformed by the combined industry of Quarians and geth. Despite centuries of being confined to overcrowded ships, the Quarians had not immediately spread out across the landscape. Small, close-knit settlements were clustered together on the southern continent. Instead of spreading outwards, tall, elegant buildings soared upwards – keeping the impact on the land to a minimum. Spreading out from each settlement, like a net, were a series of intricately irrigated farms. Although the new age of Quarian architecture and agriculture was in its infancy, technological strides were being made every day with the help of the geth. Although most of the geth mobile platforms remained in the more arid northern climes, many had chosen to work alongside their Creators. Not even in her wildest dreams could Tali have imagined such a future for her people. After centuries of being unwanted vagrants wandering aimlessly, the Quarians were thriving on their homeworld.

There were some setbacks. Adaptation did not happen instantly. At any one time a large proportion of the population were inflicted with various ailments. While most were simply suffering severe colds or skin rashes caused by allergies, others had been stricken with life-threatening reactions. With their bodies so conditioned to shipboard living, there was the likelihood that some would never be able to leave the constraints of their suits.

As content as she was, Tali constantly lived with the thought that something was missing in her life. She also knew that Garrus was bored. The Turian would not admit it, even if asked, but Tali knew him too well. It was easy to notice the faraway look in his eyes, most often prevalent in the quiet of night in their small home. It was obvious that her lover's temperament was ill-suited for peacetime.

Tali glanced at her omni. "Keelah, I'm keeping Seven waiting."

"You still want to go through with it?" Garrus asked carefully.

"Of course," Tali replied. Although she was endeavouring to be decisive, she could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "If only to avoid having to hear you moan about having dirt under your talons."

She was slightly less sure of herself ten minutes later when she was sitting in a sterile chamber with one of the induction ports in her suit connected to a geth hub. Her suit already felt like it was crawling before the procedure had even begun. She glanced across to the platform attending her. During the war it had operated as a Geth Hunter unit. Its glowing red aperture regarded her impassively.

Tali had known this platform for over six months. It called itself simply 'Seven' when the runtimes housed within the platform could not reach a consensus on a proper name. Tali had worked with Seven to test the procedure for months before it would finally be ready. The geth programmes would act as an artificial immune system, bombarding her body with low level infections to build up resistance. There was also scope for future cooperation with enhanced tech abilities and cyber warfare capabilities.

Seven crossed to her side. His fluid footsteps made no sound. "Creator-Zorah, do you wish to begin?"

Months of planning, and Tali suddenly felt a twinge of what humans called 'cold feet.' Garrus was there, his hands dwarfing her own as he cradled one gently.

"Are we truly sure this is going to work, Seven?" she asked the pointless question. "What if something goes wrong...my suit may reject the programmes. There could be irreversible deletions."

"The runtimes have...volunteered," Seven explained in its monotonous voice. "To assist Creator Zorah, one who worked alongside Shepard-Commander, it is a...honour." It spoke hesitantly. Concepts of 'volunteering' and 'honour' were still relatively new to the geth. "Any risks are their own."

Tali offered a determined nod. "Alright. Let's get this bosh'tet procedure over and done with."

* * *

 

**Chasca, Matano System**

As Sam Traynor emerged from _Normandy's_ climate controlled environment, she was struck by a sudden wave of heat. Having grown up in the temperate climes of Horizon and spent her university days rugged up against bitter English winters, she was immediately grateful that she was not the one being posted to Chasca. She felt a brief pang of sympathy for Sarah Williams who would be stuck on the planet for the better part of two years. Still, the youngest Williams sounded eager to trade shipboard life for the wide-open spaces of a colony – even if it was one where colonisation was restricted to a narrow strip between the sweltering day side and the frozen night side. However, in glancing skywards, Sam was struck by the vibrant swirl of colours created by the perma-twilight. It was almost gorgeous.

_Hmmm, maybe not so bad after all?_ she mused as she clutched the small box she carried against her chest.

Sam's sweeping gaze picked out Sarah standing on the tarmac being embraced by her sister. Goodbyes were never easy. Several days earlier, Sam had said farewell to her parents as they boarded a freighter bound for Earth. While she had remained stoic in their presence, her willpower had faltered as soon as they were gone. In the scant privacy offered by the women's bathroom, she had sobbed like a small child. Even though the Horizon survivors had been treated like royalty since they emerged from their prison, Sam had been unable to suppress the lingering sense of dread at the thought of her parents remaining in Alliance territory, under the control of the very organisation who had imprisoned them.

In response to her concerns, Ashley had offered a fervent promise that they would stay safe. When Sam had openly doubted that the Captain's SpecTRe status would be enough to keep them safe, Williams had replied cryptically that she had additional help. Although Williams was undoubtedly one of the most reliable officers Sam knew, she could still not bring herself to trust the promise. It was that doubt which had pushed her to break regulations for the first time in her career. When it came to her parents she was prepared to bend the rules. The memory caused her to flinch visibly.

_Bend the rules? They were well and truly broken…like into tiny little pieces_. _Into court-martial, dishonourable discharge pieces_ , Sam reflected as she stared at an unsuspecting Ashley. The hack she'd run on the Captain's private comms channel had dug up a number of messages regarding future protection for the Horizon survivors involving careful surveillance by a network of operatives. None were signed off, but Sam instinctively knew that they were from Liara T'Soni. How Liara could promise that the survivors would be watched and safeguarded, Sam didn't know. But she trusted Liara and the promises that were made. A guilty flush crept up the back of her neck. Although she'd burned the hack programme so she couldn't use it a second time, there was nothing she could do about her ability to simply write another one. _If Ash finds out…_

She was still lost in her thoughts when Sarah Williams caught sight of her and waved her down. Although Sam had well and truly filed her infatuation with Sarah Williams in the 'do not disturb' corner of her brain, the prospect of a hug stirred her into action. Her stride was momentarily jarred when someone slapped her on the shoulder. Turning, she found Leon Grenier with his trademark grin. The man smiled too much.

"Hey, Chief. Heard from your parents?" he asked as they walked together.

In the last hour alone, Sam had received the same question from four different shipmates. Nick and Radha Traynor had managed to make fans throughout the _Normandy_. Being academics, her parents were two of the least technologically minded people in the Galaxy. Their questions and comments had resulted in numerous grins and chuckles. Leon had paid them special attention. Sam didn't know why until, in a quiet moment off duty, the XO admitted that both of his parents had died during the Reaper invasion.

Sam managed a polite nod in response to Grenier's question. "A couple of hours ago. They've arrived safely on Earth." There was little point in going into the details of the tears and brave smiles on both sides. She missed them, that was all there was to it.

Leon nodded as they left the ship. "How tempting was it to leave with them?"

A muted sigh left her lips. "Almost impossibly so. They had to talk me out of it."

"I'm glad they did. You are a damn fine sailor, Traynor."

"I'm an Ops Chief. I fix things. There's nothing essential about what I do," Sam said, a familiar bitterness returning to her voice.

Even though Sarah was waiting for them, Leon stopped Sam in her tracks with a gentle grip on her forearm. He spun her around to face him. "I watched you while you were down on Horizon. Those people were justifiably terrified of the Alliance. They wouldn't come near even the _Normandy_ crew until you went amongst them. You were calm, confident…brilliant. Williams made their release possible, but you were probably the first friendly face they'd seen in almost a year."

"You're not still trying to get into my pants are you?" Sam asked with narrowed eyes.

He laughed. "No, of course not." His serious expression returned. "I see you, and you're not as dispensable as you think you are, Sam Traynor." He quickly realised that he had made things between them slightly awkward. Changing the subject, he pointed to the box she carried. "What's that?"

"Oh?" Sam glanced down in surprise, as though just remembering that she was carrying something. "Um, it's a gift."

With Grenier's kind, but misguided words failing to dispel her lingering guilt, Sam found that she could not look Ashley in the eye as she approached. Instead she concentrated on Sarah Williams, managing a beaming smile for the young woman. When Sarah enveloped her in a fierce hug, Sam somehow managed to remain dignified.

"Take care of yourself won't you, Sam?" Sarah said when she drew back. "Sorry…Chief!"

_Bloody hell! Don't call me Chief!_ Sam's resolve to be impassive about the whole affair started to weaken. "Sam's fine, honestly." She pressed the small package in her hand towards Sarah. "This is for you."

When Sarah opened the box, her eyes widened as she recognised the small device within. "Sam, it's your chess set! I can't take this!"

"I can easily pick up another." Sam refused to take it back. "I figured you wouldn't have access to anything much on Chasca. This way, you have at least something thrilling to do in your downtime."

"Thank you. You know, one of these days I'm going to improve my chess game and actually beat you," Sarah warned.

"I'll hold you to that," Sam replied in a thick voice. "Take care of yourself won't you, Williams."

"Aye, aye, Chief."

There were a few more parting words, made all the more memorable for the fact that Ashley was trying not to cry and Grenier was behaving oddly. The XO's nervous energy also seemed to infect Sarah. She was unable to look him properly in the eye, even when he tried to say goodbye. It was only when she had said her final words and tried to move away that it became apparent why. Sarah managed to walk only a short distance before she dumped her bags on the tarmac and ran back to Grenier. Both Ash and Sam heard her mutter 'fuck rank' before she threw her arms around his neck and claimed his lips in a determined kiss.

"Woah," Sam exclaimed aloud without even realising that her lips were open.

She found herself unable to suppress an irrational surge of resentment toward Leon Grenier. Although she considered the XO to be a friend and all around nice guy, in that moment she hated him with a passion. She discreetly turned away to avoid staring daggers into his back as he responded to Sarah's kiss. At her side, Ashley too had narrowed her eyes – although her umbrage was the natural reaction of an older sister.

"Oh sis," Ashley whispered, shaking her head. Although she didn't exactly disapprove of Grenier, the fledgling relationship was already facing numerous obstacles. Most importantly, the _Normandy_ would be leaving Chasca as soon as the last crate of cargo was deposited on the tarmac. "I told you to look, not touch." She didn't expect an answering quip from Sam, but when she turned to look at the Ops Chief, Ashley found her obstinately staring in the opposite direction. Her first instinct was to not embarrass Sam, but she found it difficult to stop herself. " Speaking as your friend as opposed to your CO, Traynor, I think she's daft for not choosing you. But…straight women, what can you do?"

Sam's gaze darted across to Ashley. Her eyes were wide and alarmed. "I am _that_ obvious?"

"Not really." Ash offered a relaxed shrug in response. "It's just a well-known fact that each successive Williams sister is better looking than the last. We started out pretty damn average but, by the time Sarah came along, the genes were pretty much perfect. You wouldn't be much of a lesbian if you didn't have a crush on my sister."

The resulting laugh served to mask Sam's embarrassment, although there was little she could do about the warm flush to her cheeks. "Leon's a good guy," she offered charitably. _And you're not average by any sense of the word, Captain Williams – at least in my dreams._

"He'd better be a bloody good guy…or I'm kicking his ass," Ashley promised, turning back to face the couple.

"On second thought, I'm grateful she didn't choose me," Sam said quickly. She had absolutely no desire to be on the receiving end of that particular ass-kicking. _You hacked into her comms, Sam, there's an entirely different brand of ass-kicking reserved for you. The kind that you don't come back from._

Ash shook her head. "Who am I kidding? Sarah is more than capable of taking care of herself. I'm just desperately trying to hold onto my position as big sister." She sighed, knowing that in a few hours' time she would have to leave another of her sisters behind. "C'mon, Chief, we've got work to do."

Sam scowled in response. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a ridiculously hard taskmaster?"

"Would you rather stand here and watch someone else kiss my sister?"

"Point taken," Sam replied quickly.

The two women made their way toward the _Normandy's_ loading ramp. It was already a miniature hive of activity. Both were already feeling the heat with a sheen of sweat on their faces. Sam was uncomfortably aware that moisture was building in her small cleavage. She resisted the undignified urge to tug at her bra.

"You know you're going to make some woman incredibly happy one day?" Ash commented. Wisely, she stripped off her jacket and threw it over one shoulder.

The reassuring comment didn't go down the way Ashley had intended. Sam's scowl deepened. "You know, the only thing worse than hearing that line from my parents, is hearing it from my CO."

"Well, we've all got your best interests at heart."

"You should all give it a rest," Sam replied peevishly. Ashley was currently the last person with whom she wanted to discuss her least favourite topic. "There aren't any women out there and I don't care."

Unconcerned, Ashley shrugged. "How about an asari then? It worked for Shepard."

The throwaway comment grabbed Sam's attention. It was the first time she had heard the Captain refer to Commander Shepard for some time. When she glanced across at her, she saw Ashley was making a concentrated effort to keep a smile on her face at the mention of her friend. From Sam's point of view, the mere mention of asari was enough to bring intense images from Joker's vid collection to mind. Sam blushed and looked away. A couple of times she had dreamed about 'going blue.' Asari were undeniably beautiful but while she could easily imagine herself going there, she could not think of anything that would make her remotely attractive to their species. Shepard had been different. Gorgeous, powerful, and magnetic. It had been obvious why Liara had gone through hell to choose the Commander as her lover.

"Ha, no asari in her right mind would choose me," Sam replied bluntly. In making the mistake of looking over her shoulder, she saw Sarah Williams and Grenier _still_ kissing. She suddenly needed something to occupy herself with. She squared her shoulders. "You were saying something about work to be done, ma'am?"

* * *

 

**Mindoir, Attican Traverse**

At first the crack was tiny. Just a small sliver arcing across her face plate at the edge of her vision. As Miranda watched in fascination, the single line spilt into two. Her scientific mind marvelled at the strength evident in the creature's jaw. Just few more moments and it would succeed in shattering the plate altogether and reaching its intended goal – the tender flesh that lay within.

It was hardly one of her finest moments. Grappling in the mud with an animal, it's slavering jaw wrapped around much of her rapidly failing helmet. The warning system in her HUD was displaying a litany of suit integrity failures but all she could see were the cracks in her faceplate and the salivating depths beyond. An, odd, choked sound burbled from her throat. Miranda supposed it was a laugh. Having her head ripped off by wildlife was infinitely more ludicrous than dying on the end of Kai Leng's sword. When pain lanced across her temple, Miranda renewed her efforts to propel the weight from her body. The biotic blast that emanated outwards was pathetic, barely enough to stun the creature and nowhere near forceful enough for it to release its hold on her helmet.

Just as blood began to trickle into her eyes, Miranda heard several cracking retorts. The creature suddenly went limp. The entirety of its considerable weight collapsed downwards. If not for her hardsuit, she would have been crushed. Once dead, its jaws slacked. Instead of fighting for her life with an animal, Miranda was left lying beneath its corpse, unable to do anything other than simply wait for help. When it came a few moments later in the guise of the rest of her squad, she realised that she would rather have been eaten alive.

With the weight gone, the trio of equally gormless faces peered down at her. Miranda brushed aside a proffered hand and insisted on sitting unaided. She turned and glanced across at the thing that had so nearly succeeded where countless others had failed.

"Nathak," Parker commented, giving the four legged, cat-like creature a contemptuous kick with his boot. He cradled a red-barrelled Mattock in his hands. The man had undoubtedly saved her life. "Never heard of them venturing this far down from the mountains though."

Miranda suppressed a shiver as she stared into the Nathak's glassy eye. Her squad had been dispatched to locate a small group of colonists who had failed to return from a geological survey. There was now little doubt as to their fate. Without hardsuits and armed only with basic weapons, they would have stood little chance. Not with the way the big cats moved. Despite her combat training, Miranda had received no warning in the moments prior to the attack. One moment she had been chastising Private Rose for idle chatter, and the next she was lying on her back in the mud, barely comprehending what was happening. _Almost eaten by a giant cat, Lawson. You're definitely losing it._

When Miranda tried to unclip her helmet, she realised that the arm she'd broken in Alberta was once again next to useless. Only with a concentrated effort did she manage to peel the ruined armour away from her sweat-soaked head. Parker, Jameson, and Rousmaniere were still staring down at her in a tableau marked by complete inaction – waiting for their orders.

"Where are Rose and Iwamoto?" Her own voice sounded strange, distant.

"Dead," Parker responded perfunctorily. His family was from Mindoir. Part of the second wave of colonists after the attack of '70. Although only a Private, his local knowledge meant that he instinctively stepped into an advisory role in the squad. "Rose had four of the bastards set on him. Iwamoto lost her balance and fell." He jerked his head in the direction of a narrow fissure in the ground. This part of Mindoir was riddled with them. Avoiding them was one of the first lessons of surviving.

"Did you find her body?" Miranda asked. Her head was throbbing. With each pulse, more blood obscured her vision. Jameson, their medic, was finally spurred into action. She began rifling through her medkit.

"Well…no," Parker admitted grudgingly. "There's no telling how deep that thing goes, ma'am."

"You're about to find out. Take Rousmaniere and get down there. Iwamoto's shields could have cushioned her fall."

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

It was said through gritted teeth. Miranda suspected that Parker would have taken some sort of delight in finding her headless corpse beneath the Nathak. Although she was used to being almost universally disliked, usually that only happened after people got to know her. On Mindoir however, the disdain was pre-programmed. It originated through a combination of snap-judgements about her physical appearance and Jack informing everyone that she was ex-Cerberus. Although she had never actually overheard the conversations, the ex-convict had made no attempt to hide her animosity from the moment she arrived. Even Jameson, as she hunkered down to help dress Miranda's head wound, did not say a word as she slathered medigel on the laceration.

Parker had eventually scrambled down to find their missing squadmate. Even within the protective casing of her suit, the fall had broken her neck. What little of Private Rose's body remained, was also dropped into the fissure. The best burial they could offer him. With her depleted squad, Miranda made the trek back to the M29 Grizzly they'd abandoned a few klicks back. Like most of the garrison's equipment, the Grizzly was obsolete and unreliable. On this occasion, its temperamental fuel cells had failed leaving them to hump it on foot. She suffered the ignominy of having to report on the incident before being told that there were no vehicles that could be spared to pick them up.

Almost eight hours later, the four marines stumbled back into base after a disturbingly silent march. Miranda's headache had worsened to the point where all she wanted to do was pump herself full of painkillers and hit the rack in her tiny quarters. She was in a foul mood. After three weeks of hiding the injury she'd carried from Alberta, it had almost healed to the point of being fully functional. Now it ached almost as badly almost as it had in China. Her medical training told her she'd pushed it too far too fast.

As exhausted as she was, her first port of call was not her quarters. Miranda was painfully cognisant of the fact that she had neither received nor sent any messages to Ashley throughout her whole time on Mindoir. Her duties were heavy, but she'd deliberately piled additional shifts and regimes on top of her scheduled ones. It was all part of a mad scheme to prove Jack wrong, and possibly to earn the respect of the other marines on the base. After pulling three weeks of mostly sixteen, and even twenty hour days, so far she had managed only to exhaust her considerable reserves of endurance.

With a substantial amount of comm time owing, Miranda managed to summon a twinge of enthusiasm as she entered the prefab that served as a communications bunker. Still clad in her bloody armour, she was mentally ticking off the list of things that she should mention to Ashley. Admitting that she was serving with Jack would be fine. Ashley barely knew the ex-convict. However, admitting that she had almost been eaten alive would not be shared – possibly ever.

The bored technician on duty gave her a cursory glance as she entered. "Comms are down," he muttered unhelpfully before returning to his datapad.

"You have got to be shitting me," Miranda exclaimed, her exhaustion momentarily replaced by white hot anger. "What's the timeframe for repair?"

He offered a shrug in reply. "Just reported it to the Captain, waiting for orders."

"Surely your orders are to fix it?" she replied in disbelief. It was the final straw on one of the worst days of her life. She did not even bother to suppress the irritated grunt that followed.

"Why?" A new voice joined the conversation. "In a hurry to request your transfer?"

"What the fuck do you want?" Miranda murmured inaudibly. She spun on her heels to face a newly arrived Jack. The Captain's first response was to utter a low whistle when she saw Miranda's face. No doubt there were now the beginnings of purple bruises to complement the lacerations.

"Your report for a start," Jack replied, propping her hands on her hips. "You lost two of my kids out there. I guess I expected you to make your report a priority. Instead I find you here, making social calls."

Despite her attitude, Jack was right. Miranda's stubborn pride would not allow her to say as much. "They weren't your kids, Jack," she said in a tired voice, making no attempt to refer to her superior as 'ma'am'. "Iwamoto was even older than me."

Jack suddenly flared blue. "And that makes her life expendable?"

"Of course not!" Miranda snapped in reply. In a brief moment of silence she asked herself whether she would ever be able to have a simple conversation with Jack that did not turn to shit. Glaring at the petite biotic, she suspected not. "But they were marines, not your kids."

The flare was short-lived, although Jack's anger clearly lingered. Miranda guessed that Jack was interpreting the blank expression on her face as a lack of compassion. It wasn’t. She was simply exhausted.  

"I want your report, Cheerleader," Jack demanded. "Before you even think about anything else."

Miranda sighed in exasperation. _Like food or sleep?_ She'd had neither for the better part of twenty hours. "Fine. Hopefully it'll give the Technician enough time to fix the problem."

"Actually-" The technician started to protest but was cut short by a withering glance from Miranda. "Yes, ma'am. I'll see what I can do."

Jack snorted as the pair of them left the prefab together. Miranda trailed, her legs feeling leaden and unresponsive. "Anyone would think you had some boyfriend out there who actually gave a shit. Is that what it is? You've found someone other than the late Commander Shepard who can put up with waking up next to you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," was the sharp reply. "It's nothing like that." It was the partial truth. Ashley was nothing like Shepard.

Another sharp stab of pain lanced across her brow, followed by a wave of nausea and dizziness. Miranda's arm flailed out to reach the railing as she stumbled. To complete her humiliation, Jack's reflexes spurred into action, catching her before she could fall.

"Don't crack your idiot head," Jack commented as she steadied Miranda on her feet. "Heard it was fucked up out there?"

Taken aback by Jack's brusque but civil manner, Miranda managed a nod. "Almost getting my head ripped off by a wild animal fits the definition of rough."

In response, Jack cast a wistful gaze to the hills. "This entire colony is wild. We fight over it, humans, batarians - but the animals were here first. Gotta respect nature."

_Well I fucking hate nature_ , Miranda thought, wishing that her limbs would work properly so she could stand without Jack's aid. Much to her chagrin, Jack continued to support her as they walked down the small flight of stairs– like a crutch. She had fully expected the smaller woman to watch her fall and then laugh. It was only when Jack finally let go once they were on level ground that her trademark sneer returned.

"Hey…don't kid yourself, Cheerleader. No one out there gives a fuck about either of us," Jack said in a cold voice. Miranda wondered whether it was for her benefit, or Jack's own. "You know what, go hit up the Doc first. See if he can do something about your face because it's even more fucking painful to look at than it usually is."

"Aye, aye, ma'am," Miranda managed to reply without injecting any withering scorn into her voice. The simple reason being that she was too exhausted. Even though she knew better, it was easy to talk herself into Jack's way of thinking. She was too far away to even send a simple message to say that she'd almost died.

Miranda stared at Jack, watching the other woman walk away. An irritated scowl developed. In hindsight, she wanted to throw her relationship with Ashley in Jack's face, if only to prove that someone in the Galaxy did care about her.


	22. The Maiden's Bluff

In doing her best to stifle a yawn, Hannah Shepard feared that she ended up with a twisted expression resembling someone who had just eaten something sour. The yawn passed. She recomposed her features into an attentive expression focused on the small screen in front of her. In response to her yawn, David Anderson offered her a weary smile.

"I can't tell you how much it means to us to have your support, Hannah," he said in his trademark baritone.

Even though the image was poor, Hannah noticed the additional lines etched into Anderson's face. His once dark hair was almost completely grey at the temples. He both looked and sounded exhausted even though she was the one yawning. Nevertheless, the former Admiral's small smile was genuine despite his current situation.

Hannah respected him on both a professional and personal level. Anderson had been her daughter's greatest champion throughout Evangeline's military career. As both a mother and a Naval Officer, she herself had vehemently opposed the Marine Corps as an option. With Evan's academic achievement insufficient to allow her to progress her dream of becoming a pilot, Hannah had pulled a few strings to secure her a respectable civilian staff post on Arcturus. Her headstrong daughter had railed angrily against her interference and had enlisted in the Marines the next day. Hannah had never explained that she hoped that a year or two of hard work in night classes would enable Evan to achieve her dream. The explanation remained unsaid, like so many other things between mother and daughter. Just like the fact that Hannah had fully expected Evan to wash out of the corps, unwilling to accept the hard work and discipline. Instead she had excelled – eventually being fast-tracked for a commission and, on Anderson's recommendation, accepted into the ICT programme. As a Captain, he'd requested her as his XO on the _Normandy_. Hannah vividly remembered the moment when Evan had called her to pass on the news. Her congratulations had been lukewarm at best, as she expressed her disappointment that she had not been offered a more prominent post. As well as setting history on its course, the significant moment had further soured their relationship.

Now, three years later, Anderson had been forced into hiding by the very organisation to which he had devoted so much of his life. He had been instrumental in leading the fight against the Reapers. His reward was to be hunted for simply trying to speak out. Hannah felt an intense sorrow for what had happened to her old friend.

"Although I don't suppose you're going to tell me where your intel is coming from?" Anderson asked, one eyebrow lifting in curiosity.

"Let's just say that the Shadow Broker has a vested interest in our cause," Hannah replied tactfully.

Both Anderson's eyebrows shot upwards. "You move in interesting circles these days."

"As do we all," Hannah replied with a nod. She had never expected to find herself working for the Shadow Broker. The covert world of conspiracies, corruption, and mistrust had been the antithesis to everything she stood for. These days it was one of the few things that made sense. As one of the handful of people who knew the Shadow Broker's identity, Hannah had complete confidence in Liara T'Soni's judgement and ability. Working for the young asari was the most effective way she could help her daughter. Although she had a long way to go to right decades of perceived wrongs, Hannah carried a sliver of hope that she would be able to start a fresh relationship with Evan. "How are you holding up?"

"With the most recent announcement?" Anderson's shoulders sagged. "Honestly I feel as though I don't know _people_ anymore. How can they accept the fact that democratic elections have simply been postponed for an indefinite period? That there are still no plans to appoint a Councillor to replace Udina? Are those of us who oppose them going mad, Hannah? Are we fighting for something that humanity does not even want?"

Hannah shook her head emphatically. "They're still grateful to the Alliance for saving their lives, for holding everything together in the aftermath. However as soon as they realise how much power they've given away-"

"That's precisely my point!" Anderson interrupted. "Very few people realise that they've given away so much that it will eventually be next to impossible to change. Humanity will be in the grip of a military dictatorship through its own actions. Such a regime will only lead to more wars – this time against our own allies."

"It's not too late," Hannah insisted. "This can still be solved peacefully."

"I'd like to believe you, I really would," Anderson replied. He glanced off-screen. From the nondescript background, Hannah couldn't tell where on Earth he was. "Shit, I've got to cut this short before the conversation draws attention, but it's been good to talk to a friendly face. I know the past eight months have been difficult to say the least, but you're looking well, Shepard. Stay safe."

"You too, David," Hannah nodded. "I'll be in touch when the coordinates for the next supply drop are finalised. Until then, don't do anything stupid."

When the image of Anderson winked out, Hannah was left with just one inactive screen across the array in front of her. The rest were alive with an almost dizzying array of feeds and communiques. She quickly tapped the haptic display and brought up a summary of the most recent news reports from across the globe. Given the stranglehold that the Alliance had over mass communication, all were enthusiastically touting the decision to postpone elections as a positive move. The nation states of Earth would remain united under the Systems Alliance, blithely ignoring the fact that their rights and freedoms were gradually being strangled. Anderson was on the streets with loyal supporters, all stoically doing their best to circulate the truth.

Hannah suddenly jumped when she felt the first touch at her waist. A familiar smell relaxed her a split second later as a pair of sinewy arms encircled her. With a weary sigh, she leaned back into Mack's body, allowing him to take some of the weight off her aching feet.

Mack cast a contemptuous gaze over the news summary in front of them. "You know that rubbish will rot your brain."

"Just because it's rubbish, doesn't mean it isn't illuminating," Hannah replied tersely. Although she was well accustomed to Mack's flippant, almost dismissive manner, it never ceased to vex her – or perhaps it was just the man himself. However, as she swivelled to face him, the sight of his disarming grin was enough to put a swift end to the discussion.

"Well, you need to stop 'illuminating' stuff for the day," Mack pointed out as she sagged against him. "You're almost dead on your feet."

Hannah shook her head stubbornly. "I still need to take reports from Agents Halla and Curtis. They're both due after 0100. I promise I'll go to bed once I've dealt with them."

Mack wouldn't be budged. "I'll take the reports, you're hitting the sack, babe."

A wry smile crossed her face. It had been over three decades since anyone had called her 'babe.’ Although a part of her wanted to put her foot down and tell him to piss off, her eyelids felt like they had weighted strings pulling them downward.

"You'll be professional?" Hannah asked dubiously. "I recall overhearing a conversation last week when you told someone to 'grow a quad.' I don't know about you, but I don't think that's how an operative of the Shadow Broker ought to communicate."

"I'll behave," Mack grinned. "I promise…at least until I come to bed later."

Hannah thumped her palm against his chest. "You're insufferable. You'll be misbehaving by your bloody self. I'm planning on being asleep."

A chuckle followed, but it was brief. His expression slipped into a composed, serious mask that Hannah recognised as his business face. As exasperating as the man was at times, she could not fault his work ethic. In the long days and nights at the bottom of the world, with only the seemingly endless feeds and each other for company, Hannah was beginning to realise that she might, just possibly, be falling in love with Pericles Macklin. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Hannah extricated herself from his embrace with the pretext of reaching for a glass of water.

"How are things on Omega?" Mack tactfully steered the topic away from dangerous territory. While he waited for her answer, he positioned himself purposefully in front of the haptic display.

Hannah swallowed a mouthful of water and sighed. "Reading between the lines, Evie's bored senseless…but she's safe, so that's all that matters. I never thought I'd say this, but Omega is currently one of the safest places in the Galaxy."

"It's a cesspit…but stable one," Mack agreed. He bit his lip as he considered another thought. "Although it does surprise me that no one has risen up to claim leadership of the Talons. As far as Liara can tell, they're still following Aria – acting as her private security force and further strengthening her already iron-clad rule. I reckon as long as Liara and Evan keep a low profile, they'll stay safe enough."

Hannah offered a wary hum in reply. "That's what I'm worried about."

"They're good kids, Hannah." Mack tried to reassure her. "They'll be fine."

"You do know that Liara is almost twice your age?" Hannah asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mack chuckled knowingly. "I know asari culture pretty well…and in their terms, she's practically still a kid."

"I bet you've known a few asari," Hannah fired back in a snide tone.

He glanced up from the display with a wounded expression on his face. "Hey, don't knock the fact that I am damn gorgeous."

She couldn't stop the grin that creased her face in response. With the puppy dog expression softening his craggy features, he was undeniably handsome. It took all her strength to resist the urge to slide into the narrow gap between his body and the console and offer herself up as a distraction.

"Shut up and concentrate." She said it as much for her own benefit as his. "You don't want to hit the wrong button and start a war."

The warning was stretching the truth. Not only were there no 'buttons' on a haptic display, Mack would probably need to key in at least three or four commands to go as far as starting a war. The flippant comment reminded her of the conversation she'd had with Anderson only a few minutes earlier. Her grin faded as she was sobered by the realisation that the Alliance was already doing its utmost to drive them toward another war. The races that had eventually united to face the Reapers were now fractured. At first it had been each race looking to its own simply for survival, now it was the strong preying on the weak. Hannah couldn't begin to speculate as to what the Alliance was trying to achieve or even why, but she knew that they had to be stopped by any means necessary.

It wouldn't happen tonight however. Hannah boxed up her fears and tucked them away at the back of her mind. Mack glanced across and caught her eye for a moment. She attempted to keep a wistful expression from floating onto her face. "Try and be quiet when you come to bed?" she asked. "Otherwise you'll wake me up."

Mack grinned. "I can't make any promises, sweetheart. G'night."

"Goodnight, Pericles," she offered before turning away.

Despite her exhaustion and her private fears, there was a slight spring to her step. There was nothing 'possible' or 'perhaps' about it. She had undeniably fallen in love with the New Zealander. Any number of elements served to temper her happiness, but foremost amongst them was the question she continually asked herself – did she deserve to be happy?

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

The former Commander Shepard – N7 Operative, Council SpecTRe, and reluctant galactic saviour – had spent over a month on Omega with little to do and nothing productive to offer anyone. It was a situation that bordered on the implausible. Had anyone in her past life dared suggest that her life would become a semi-permanent holiday, it would have brought a derisive snort to her lips. Yet she now found herself with enough time on her hands to actually be bored. Even as a child she had never suffered from such an affliction. Any free time would be spent skulking around the edges of the flight deck of whatever space station or ship she happened to be on at the time. Shepard had visited Omega's cavernous docks on several occasions but the comings and goings of ships no longer held any fascination for her. She'd travelled to the far corners of the galaxy herself and realised that one place was not that different from another. Bright lights and lavish lifestyles held absolutely no fascination for her. Nor did scenic beauty. The only true wealth in her life had been found in the dusty bowels of a mine on Therum.

It was that meeting that Shepard was contemplating as she watched Liara work. Although she had been standing in the doorway to Liara's office for the better part of ten minutes, her bondmate had yet to notice her. Liara's fingers continued to move across the haptic display, every so often she would make an irritated noise in the back of her throat or mutter a few words under her breath. The one thing she did not do, was stop working.

Shepard had always understood her asari to be something of a workaholic. Unlike Miranda Lawson who valued completion and perfection, Liara simply sought to work for the thrill of the chase. In that way information brokering was not unlike archaeology. Both professions sifted through useless waste to uncover hidden treasures. Both were inherently time-consuming to the point where they swallowed up all semblance of a normal life. On board the _Normandy_ Shepard had never had the time herself to notice this. There had always been something to do, some bomb to disarm or diplomat to save.

On Omega however, everything was laid out in stark bare terms. Liara spent nearly every waking hour at work. Shepard alternated between working out, watching Liara work, and treading the streets of Omega. During the brief time they spent together without other priorities occupying them, their conversation was warm but ultimately hollow. Shepard did not share the anxieties weighing her down and Liara did not press her for answers. Physically they remained close, but always a step away from genuine intimacy. In the small hours of the morning, Liara often fell asleep in Shepard's arms on the sofa. They kissed often enough, from gentle teases to deeper, more meaningful explorations that left them both breathless and craving more. Shepard could see the obvious restraint in Liara's movements because her bondmate had nothing to hide, but her own revulsion she kept well hidden. However her frustrations were starting to surface of late.

_Liara, I'm not ready…not yet_. Her cheeks coloured as she remembered her own words from an incident a few days earlier. It had started as a single kiss, blossoming as they both responded as they might have in days past. For a few blissful minutes everything had felt as it ought to. Then the anxiety returned – on one level fuelling Shepard's hunger, and on another causing it to go cold with dread. She'd been forced to push Liara away, offering the weak explanation that she wasn't ready. However the truth was that she had been more than ready in the carnal sense of the word. Afterwards, with Liara safely ensconced in her office, she had retreated to the bathroom. There, in the harsh fluorescent light, with her back to the mirror so she did not have to look at herself, Shepard had dragged her own fingers through the heat between her legs. The resulting orgasm left her body sagging against the sink, momentarily relieved but ashamed that she was unable to simply talk to Liara.

The thought was still on her mind when Liara suddenly turned over her shoulder with an expectant expression on her face.

"I was wondering how long you would simply stand there," she commented.

"I thought you didn't realise I was here," Shepard answered. She remained in the doorway despite the demanding ache in her belly.

Liara offered a small smile in return. The simple gesture managed to bring the otherwise dark room alive. "There is a very good reason that you did not train as an infiltrator, Evan. You are incapable of sneaking."

"And I thought it was just because I can't hit the side of a dreadnought with a sniper rifle," was the self-deprecating reply.

"Let me guess…something Garrus told you?" Liara asked.

"Obviously," Shepard said. "No one can offer insults like Vakarian. I came to see if you wanted to go for a walk?"

"It is that time of day already?" Liara knew Shepard's penchant for long walks when she had exhausted all other indoor activities. "As much as I could do with some fresh air-"

"You have too much work to do," Shepard finished for her. She always asked and Liara always said no. "I understand. Anyway, where are you going to find fresh air on Omega?"

"It was intended to be a joke," Liara said with a shrug.

Shepard shook her head. "And that's why there's a very good reason that you are not a comedian, T'Soni." She turned to leave. "I'll be home in time to eat dinner with you."

Liara nodded. "That would be nice."

That was the extent of their conversation – a series of light, almost cheerful exchanges that could have taken place between friends. Shepard could already see Liara's head starting to turn back to her work. As soon as Liara looked away altogether, her bondmate would be gone, replaced by the tireless, indifferent Shadow Broker.

"Liara?" Shepard ventured uncertainly.

Liara paused in her turn, her attention captured for another few moments at least. "Yes, Evan?"

When Shepard swallowed, her throat was painfully dry. "Can we talk over dinner?"

The asari's expression softened. She cocked her head to one side and smiled. For a split second she reminded Shepard someone who was long gone – the archaeologist she had met on Therum.

"We are hardly going to sit in silence," Liara said lightly.

"I don't mean chat…I mean _talk_ ," Shepard stressed the word, saying it as though it was something rare and precious. She watched as Liara's expression further changed to the point where her expression was undeniably hopeful. "If you have the time of course."

For the first time in their conversation, Liara's hands lowered from the console and fell to her sides. "We can talk now-"

"Thank you…but no," Shepard said with a definite shake of her head. She wasn't ready. Not in that moment. "Over dinner is fine."

Shepard made a grateful escape before Liara could offer anything further or, worse still, try and embrace her. She needed to clear her head and determine the right words to say so she did not sound as though she was a brief step away from losing her mind. Somewhere she had to have the right words to explain the lingering presence of Naomi Stone's accusation. Even though it had been proven to be a fabrication, Shepard was unable to shake the self-perception that she was capable of such a thing. Although she and Liara were content enough at present, Shepard knew that the stress would eventually eat away at their relationship. Shepard could sense the growing storm on the horizon, and she did not want to go into it without having Liara fully behind her.

Her wanderings took her toward the docks. Although ships themselves no longer commanded her fascination, there were places she could sit and watch that were almost completely silent. She could observe the chaotic hive of activity without listening to the shouts of the dockworkers or the sound of a freighter grinding into its docking cradle. It suited her to imagine watching the sleek shape of the _Normandy_ glide into one of the berths. She missed her ship and its crew.

As she walked, Shepard half-expected Mycea Kasos to find her. More often than not the young asari seemed to know exactly where she was. However today it was Shepard who found Myke.

The actual discovery was hardly miraculous. She had shared this spot with Myke a few weeks earlier so she was not surprised to find her sitting on a rusty bollard. Although Shepard was momentarily irritated that her secluded spot had been usurped, she found it difficult to translate that feeling into action. Myke was hugging her knees to her chest, resting her chin on her forearms in a contemplative pose as Shepard walked into her peripheral vision.

"Anything much happening?" Shepard asked as she stopped a few feet sort of a precarious drop down to the bowels of the docks below.

Myke stretched out her arm and pointed to a small passenger ship. "That's the _Anaideia_ , out of Illium, probably with the usual cargo of dancers and speculators. That one over there, it's definitely elcor so probably from Thunawanuro." She then nodded toward a ship that was unmistakably asari. "That one's a little odd, the asari government doesn't usually deal with Omega so blatantly. It's small so I'm guessing it's a diplomatic envoy." Myke shrugged. "Then you've got half a dozen batarian ships, most probably from Lorek, and the usual quota of pirates and mercs looking to make a profit and piss it away in Afterlife."

Shepard suppressed a wry smile. "Amongst other things."

Mycea turned to look at Shepard. Her frown furrowed the pink markings on her forehead before her eyes widened in realisation. "Oh yeah," she replied, feigning a knowing grin. "That's probably where I should be you know – Afterlife – that asari ship is bound to have its share of maidens aboard. I bet they're looking to experience everything Omega has to offer…"

"What are you sitting around here for then?" Shepard patted her pockets and found what she was looking for. She drew out a credit chit and passed it across to Mycea. The asari simply stared at it. "I'd come with you, but walking directly into Aria's lair wouldn't be the brightest idea I've ever had. Go have some fun."

Dark blue eyes widened in response. "I can't. I mean, I've got stuff to do," Myke babbled, refusing to take the proffered chit.

"What stuff? You're sitting here watching ships and judging from what you've just told me, you've been here a while," Shepard pointed out. "Wouldn't you rather be helping those maidens experience everything Omega has to offer?"

"No!" Myke blurted in horror. She then shook her head rapidly as she turned away from the chit. A ragged sigh followed. "Yeah…but…"

"You were bluffing?" Shepard realised that Myke's initial confidence had been nothing more than a façade.

"Yeah," the asari admitted in a heavy voice. "I wouldn't know what to do with a maiden if one fell into my lap. I'd most probably scream and run like a batarian threatened with a bath. Sorry for lying to you."

Shepard shook her head. "It's fine. I just thought with you growing up on Omega…"

"Hey," Mycea looked slightly offended. "I know stuff, okay. I just haven't done… _stuff_."

"I won't ask you for advice sorting out my love life then," Shepard said, deftly turning the subject away from the embarrassed Omegan.

"You and Liara are having problems?" Mycea asked, her eyes wide again. "Shit, Shep, I'm sorry."

Shepard had let Liara's name slip several weeks earlier. Given that Mycea had never left Omega, she figured that there was little likelihood that she would recognise the name of one of the great houses of Thessia. It was more than a little risky even if Mycea didn't recognise the name 'T'Soni', but Shepard need to talk to someone. Her relationship with the young asari was the only one she had that resembled a friendship. The only other option had been having a conversation with Hannah Shepard, and that was definitely out of the question.

"It's fine. I'm sure we just need to talk," Shepard nodded to herself.

Myke nodded in enthusiastic agreement. "Talking, yup. I've always found that talking is really helpful."

Shepard couldn't suppress her grin as she glanced across at the young asari. Mycea was also quietly grinning, having mocked her own tendency to bullshit. Both were enjoying the moment of levity when Shepard suddenly felt a shiver down her spine. She immediately recognised it for what it was – a warning. While Mycea remained oblivious, Shepard discreetly tilted her head to one side and caught movement out of the corner of her eye. From her limited perspective, she counted at least three figures – which probably meant there were five or six. She chose not to reach for the Phalanx at her side, instead remaining relaxed and casual.

"Does Aria really need four guys to do her dirty work?" Shepard asked as she folded her arms nonchalantly over her chest.

"What?" Myke thought Shepard was talking to her. When she turned and looked over her shoulder, she almost fell off her perch in shock as a result. "Fuck! Um…Shep, there _are_ four guys behind us."

"Yeah, I know," Shepard replied quietly.

She finally turned around. Her expression remained neutral as she took in as many details as she could in one lazy glance. There were two batarians, one turian, and a bored looking asari hanging near the back. All were decently armed with shotguns or pistols, however only one of the batarians actually held his weapon. He would present a slight problem if the situation got out of hand, as would the asari and her biotics. Given that the topic had never come up between them, Shepard had no idea of the extent of Mycea's biotic training. She was a very young maiden, but then again she had grown up in one of the most dangerous places in the Galaxy.

"Aria's getting tired of waiting for you, she wants to see you. Now," the lead batarian demanded in an uncompromising tone.

"Can't," Shepard replied curtly, she took a small step forward. "Busy."

"Aria doesn't understand the word 'can't.' You'd better hope that your schedule frees up, really fast," he pressed.

"Well Aria should get someone to take a look at her translator," Shepard said, taking one more step forward. At the forefront of her mind she knew that Liara would be pissed. The meeting with Aria was bound to come sooner or later. Today was as good as any other day. However now that she was faced with the meeting, Shepard decided that she did not appreciate being summoned. "Anyway, did I really say can't? I meant won't. So scurry back to your Queen and pass the message on."

"Um, Shep," Myke began uncertainly. "Maybe we should just do as they say?"

"You should go home," Shepard said without taking her eyes off Aria's goons.

"She's not going anywhere." The reply was uncompromising. "You're both going to see Aria."

"The asari's got nothing to do with this, let her walk away," Shepard demanded.

The batarian snorted. "Or what?"

"Or you'll piss me off," Shepard replied with a shrug. She had well and truly realised that she was behaving like a hot-head instead of the trained marine that she was. However the previous weeks of boredom and inactivity were all coming to fruition. At the back of her mind she was ignoring Liara's warnings and willing them to fight simply for the sheer hell of it.

The batarian made the first of many mistakes. He'd allowed Shepard to get too close to him and then further compounded his stupidity by closing the remaining gap between them in a threatening manner. Without warning, her hand darted out and seized him around the throat. She wasted no time in throwing him backwards, sending him crashing down atop the second batarian with the shotgun. Shepard then concentrated on the asari as she was still summoning her biotics. Like someone possessed, she crashed forward, throwing her entire body on her stunned opponent. The biotic attack was stifled before it began as Shepard slammed a fist into her face. Somewhere behind her she heard a guttural, pained yelp and turned over her shoulder to see that Myke had leapt onto the back of the turian and was twisting one of his flanges back at an unnatural angle.

As the asari that had just been hit sank to the ground senseless, blood streaming from a broken nose, Shepard turned her attention to the two batarians. Neither was dazed, just incredibly ungainly as they struggled to their feet. She caught one with a glancing kick across his jaw, sending him spinning straight back to the ground. The second she seized around the throat once more with her left hand, surprising herself with just how effortless it was to feel his windpipe giving way beneath the grip of her artificial hand. All four of his eyes bulged as he struggled to breathe. A few more seconds and she would crush his airways altogether. Suddenly Shepard heard Myke's cry from behind her. The sound snapped her out of her violent trance and she dropped the batarian.

The turian had managed to throw Myke to the ground. He was standing over her with his omni-blade drawn, driving it down toward her unprotected body. Without thinking, Shepard caught the blade in her left hand. It would have carved through her right, but the back of her mind she knew that the left would be unscathed. The blade hit, remained caught for a few moments, before she used her grip on the weapon as leverage to throw the turian backward. She clearly saw him draw his pistol as he fell off balance but everything from that point unfolded in slow motion, even her own moments. It kicked in his hand once. The first shot tore harmlessly into her sleeve. He had just enough time to fire off a second shot that went wide before Shepard was on him. Her fist pummelled into his face, first the right and then the left. A grotesque spray of blood burst from his shattered face, showering Shepard's shirt. She momentarily considered dragging him upwards and throwing him bodily over the ledge, but it passed and she felt a twinge of revulsion at her own actions. Instead she lashed out at the pistol, sending it flying with the toe of her boot.

Shepard surveyed the chaotic scene she had just created. The asari had dropped like a sack when hit and had not moved since. Both batarians were gamely trying to struggle to their feet. The turian was lying unmoving in a pool of his own blood. Although she had not felt it whilst moving, Shepard realised she was exhausted. Her breaths came in rapid gasps and she could feel a beads of sweat clinging to her body. Underpinning everything however, was the glorious sensation of adrenaline pumping through her veins.

She closed the distanced between herself and the batarian who had spoken. When she hovered over him she was pleased to see something resembling fear in his expression. It wasn't necessarily fear of her, but rather of what his employer would do when he returned empty handed.

Shepard dragged him roughly to his feet. "You can run back to Aria and let her know that I will see her when I am ready. I am not some novelty to be summoned. Until then I will continue to live as I have been, quietly and with no fuss." The unfortunately aspect was that she enjoyed the fuss. Her lips twisted into a sneer. "So take your colleagues and leave me the fuck alone."

Even as she watched the battered group pick themselves up, Shepard knew that she had either made a very serious mistake or sent a clear message to Aria. On one hand Aria was the type to respect strength, on the other she did not appreciate her word being ignored.

_It wasn't as though I was fucking with Aria herself,_ Shepard mused as she watched them limp away. _Just her goons_. She happened to glance down at her hand and saw that the omni-blade had carved straight through her glove. The crystal white flesh beneath was unscathed. She thrust her hand into her pocket before turning her attention back to Mycea. The young asari was sitting on the ground.

"Okay, lesson number one, don't ever do that," Shepard said. Despite her words, she felt pumped. "Fists are only ever a last resort."

Her relaxed attitude disappeared when she saw Myke wince in pain whilst pressing her hand against her shoulder. The asari then drew her hand away and stared intently at the dark purple blood coating her palm.

"Hey...I got shot!" Myke said in an oddly excited tone.

Shepard was on her knees at Myke's side in a heartbeat. Forgetting about her ruined glove and exposed hand, she tore open the sleeve of Myke's jacket and her trained gaze assessed the wound. It was only a flesh wound but she felt rotten to her very core. Her actions had resulted in an innocent bystander being hurt.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, Myke," she whispered in a broken voice. "But your barriers..." Her voice trailed off, it was ridiculous to even mildly blame the asari for not defending herself more effectively. To Shepard's surprise, Myke offered a wry grin in response.

"I'd love to be able to say that my barriers are shit," Myke began. "But I can't do 'em in the first place. I'm one of those broken asari. Y'know, the ones born without biotics. Can't so much as summon a shitty little singularity. But I did get shot...this is seriously amazing."

Shepard stared incredulously as she stripped off her jacket. "It's not amazing, not in the slightest." She tore a strip from the bottom of her t-shirt and used it to bind the wound. Mycea winced, but the grin did not leave her face. "Can you walk?"

Myke uttered a little snort. "Course I can walk! It's not like I've been shot in the leg."

With the wound securely bound, Shepard supported Myke with a firm arm around her waist. Her immediate thought was to get Myke back to her and Liara's apartment. It was safe, secure and, most importantly, she owed it to the young asari to fix everything - especially her broken body. Despite Mycea's bravado, she began slowing down throughout the journey back to the apartment. Shepard eventually scooped her up and carried her the remainder of the distance, still cursing herself for letting it happen in the first place. If only she'd just gone to see Aria, the whole thing would not have descended into a fiasco. She momentarily considered the Queen of Omega, imagining the sneer that would twist her lips when she watched the battered mercs limp into Afterlife.

There was absolutely no surprise when Liara opened the door before Shepard could key in the security code. Her bondmate had no doubt been alerted to their approach. Although the expression on her face was concerned, it was directed at Shepard herself rather than the wounded asari in her arms.

"I'm fine, Liara" Shepard said as she carried Myke over the threshold. "She's been shot. Can you get some gel and clean dressings?"

"Of course." Liara's voice was tight, tinged with suspicion and an undercurrent of anger.

"Is that your bondmate?" Myke asked Shepard as she was set down onto the sofa. Despite the wound, she continued to sound as though she was excited. Liara was gathering their medical supplies. "She's hot. How the hell did you talk her into being with you?"

"If you promise to keep your mouth shut then I'll tell you the full story someday," Shepard said gently. Inwardly she was still reeling.

"Deal," Myke said in a satisfied tone. She lolled back against the soft cushion behind her, grin still firmly fixed in place. "This is definitely the coolest thing that has ever happened to me. Nice pad by the way."

Her enthusiasm did not take away Shepard's guilt. She couldn't look Liara in the eye when she returned with the medi gel and dressings. At one point they shared a look between them. The question in Liara's eyes was obvious. _What happened?_ Shepard simply shook her head in response. _Not now._

* * *

 

An overall sensation of fuzziness greeted her when her eyes slowly peeled open. It was a good kind of fuzzy. The kind that came from being warm, comfortable and peaceful. All that was missing was a full belly for the moment to be perfect. Given the way she felt, she was not overly bothered that she was staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. A few rapid blinks cleared the film over her eyes. When she moved her body slightly she felt an odd pulling sensation in her shoulder. It wasn't painful, but it felt as though it ought to be painful. When she gingerly probed at the area, her fingers touched soft dressings. A harder prod finally did result in a sharp stab of pain.

"How do you feel? Do you require more pain medication?"

Mycea suddenly sat up with a start at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. Her head swam with the sudden movement. She found herself staring at an asari. Her pale blue face was composed into an expressionless mask. She too had facial markings, but they were unlike Myke's own, limited to dark freckles around her crest line and slashed violet lines stretching down her crest. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of blue that Myke suspected could be soft. However they were currently hard and uncompromising. There was an element of recognition but it everything still felt slightly cloudy, especially her memories.

"Where's Evan?" Myke asked cautiously.

"Asleep. She was burnt out after your encounter with Aria's envoys."

The events came back in a rush. There were four of them. Myke had watched, helplessly at first, as Shepard had taken them on single-handedly. She had still be watching in awe when the Turian had gone for his pistol. Leaping onto his back hadn't been the smartest thing she'd ever done, but she couldn't watch and do nothing. In the scuffle that followed a few minutes later, a stray shot had caught her in the shoulder. Myke wanted to grin again. Her first fight and she'd walked away from it with a bona fide wound. However the grin would not emerge so long as the stern-faced asari was staring at her. Recognition finally dawned.

"You're Liara, her bondmate," Myke began uncertainly.

"I am Liara T'Soni, yes."

Myke was confused by the manner in which Liara said her name and then stared at her expectantly. Perhaps she was waiting for some form of recognition. Although she knew a great number of the asari on Omega, she had never heard anyone use the name 'T'Soni.'

"I'm Mycea Kasos-"

"Yes, I know who you are," Liara interrupted the attempt at pleasantries. "Or your name at least. Other than that, there is curiously little information available on you."

Her tone was still neutral, but Myke suspected that it was about to turn hard, just like the expression on her face. "Why would there be stuff on me? I don't do anything to anyone. No one gives a shit about me...well, except Evan."

Liara shifted forward, a cloud fell over her features. "Well I care about Evan, a great deal in fact. I can assure you, Mycea Kasos, that if your intent is to threaten her or harm her in any way then you will not succeed. Am I understood?"

"Harm her? I wouldn't dream of-" Mycea protested. She swallowed quickly in fear as she realised Liara wasn't waiting for excuses, but rather an answer. "Yes, ma'am," she replied in a slightly tremulous voice. She had good intentions toward being slightly more audacious under the circumstances, but Liara T'Soni was blatantly terrifying. She squared her shoulders defiantly. "But I won't stop being friends with her."

"And why should you? Evan likes you, she obviously trusts you," Liara continued. "I do not However you can start to earn my trust by not relaying our conversation. This stays between us."

"Yeah, I mean yes...of course Mistress T'Soni," Myke replied eagerly. For the obvious reason, she was desperate for Liara to like her. Instead she was shattered to know that she did not. Shattered and more than a little terrified.

The bellicose expression disappeared as though Liara had simply switched it off. Her entire face softened as a small smile settled on her lips. She was beautiful, kind and warm - traits she had not possessed only moments earlier. "It is just Liara. Now, you must be hungry. Can I offer you something to eat?"

 


	23. Playing Silly Buggers

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

Shepard's eyes blinked open to an inky darkness. She tensed for a few moments before a litany of familiar smells set her at ease. The apartment was still vaguely musty. Her own sweat mingled with a hint of Liara's pleasant fragrance. This was home.

A cat-like stretch made her aware that almost every muscle in her body ached. It was a half-forgotten ache - the kind that could only be earned through physical violence. The knuckles of her right hand felt raw and painful as she scraped them against the soft bed sheets. Both shoulders were stiff in their sockets until she eased her arms above her head. With a few pops and soft groans, she coaxed her body into a semblance of working order.

Dim lights greeted her when she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her earlier stretches had already revealed that Liara was not lying beside her. In fact, beyond her own patch of body warmth, the bed was cold. She dressed in a pair of loose cargos and a long-sleeved thermal top before venturing beyond the room. With the door to her left closed, she presumed that Liara had set Mycea up in the spare bedroom.

When Shepard found Liara seated on the sofa pretending to be engrossed in a datapad, she felt an immediate twinge of surprise. Guilt followed when she realised that she expected her bondmate to be working despite the disruption to her ordered routine. In reality, the concern on Liara's face was palpable. The asari quickly set the pad aside and shifted her body, perching expectantly on the edge of the seat.

_Why does she look so guilty?_ Shepard frowned as she approached. "Hey you. How long was I out for?"

Liara nodded in agreement. "Almost eight hours. An unheard of luxury for you."

"Except for that time I slept for two years," Shepard replied flippantly. "And then there was the six months I was in stasis beneath London."

"You are being facetious, Evan," Liara replied in a tense voice. "It is hardly appropriate considering I still have no idea what happened to you yesterday."

Shepard's first thought had been to join Liara on the sofa and reassure her that she was fine. However, she bristled in response to Liara's tone, preserving the distance between them. "I'm surprised you didn't hack into a security feed and watch the incident already."

"It's Omega, not the Citadel," Liara replied curtly. "Understandably Aria doesn’t want every inch of her empire subject to scrutiny. All I know is that you stumbled across the threshold carrying someone with a gunshot wound. There was a scorch mark on your jacket indicating that someone also narrowly missed you. Are you angry that I would dare to be concerned about you?"

"Angry?" For a moment Shepard had been hovering on the verge of losing her temper. Then she remembered that the underlying vitriol in their conversation had originated with her, not Liara. Shepard shook her head. "No…Li, I'm not angry, not at all." She finally did make the choice to sit beside Liara, close enough so that their thighs pressed together. "Myke and I had a visit from some mercs in Aria's employ. Suffice to say, I didn't feel inclined to comply with their demands and things turned sour pretty fucking quickly."

Liara's facial expression did not change, indicating that the explanation was expected. She did however reach out and place her hand atop Shepard's. Her palm was cold. "The Queen of Omega is not renowned for her patience. Although I cannot claim to be pleased about the situation, you were right to refuse her."

"I know," Shepard said with a self-satisfied nod. "I may not like it, but I do know a thing or two about political manoeuvring." Without thinking, she reached out and touched Liara's cheek with her left hand. "I learned from the best. If Aria summons me once, then she will have me at her beck and call."

Only in hindsight did Shepard realise that she was touching Liara with her artificial hand. She was a hairsbreadth from snatching it away when she stopped herself. Instead she stroked the vibrant blue skin with a light swipe of her pale thumb. The touch registered on a physical level, but emotionally Shepard felt a distinct thrill. When she let the hand fall, she did not tuck it out of sight as was her habit. Liara rewarded her with a dazzling smile.

Half a dozen important conversations were rolling around in her head, but Shepard's primary concern was the young asari who had been hurt in her company. "Please tell me you didn't put Myke on that rock hard bed in the spare room?"

The guilty expression returned. "Actually, Evan…she is gone. We ate together, then I went up to check on you and she slipped out without a word."

Shepard's jaw dropped slightly. "You let her leave? She has a gunshot wound, Liara. How long ago?"

"About three hours ago," Liara admitted. She quickly tilted her head defensively. "I did not simply give her up as gone. I tasked one of my agents with locating her. She was seen entering a clinic in the Fumi District, I presumed that she would be taken care of. I would apologise if I thought it was wrong to let her leave, but she was not our prisoner."

"No, of course not. You did everything you could," Shepard shook her head. "Myke is stubborn and independent. I should have known that she wouldn't stay here and let us take care of her." She eased her aching body from the sofa. "I'm going to look for her though. I need to check for myself that she's going to be okay."

As she fetched her boots from near the door, Shepard glanced back to find that Liara was still sitting on the sofa with an odd expression on her face. "I am curious as to what the two of you talked about while I was asleep."

"Various, trifling things," Liara replied quietly. "We are…very different."

A quiet laugh escaped Shepard's lips. "Yeah, you might as well be two hundred years older than her instead of just a decade. Still...she does remind me of you when we first met…a little. Having spent her whole life on Omega I would have expected her to be harder…more street-wise. Instead she's innocent, almost naïve…just like you were." Liara opened her mouth to protest, but stopped when Shepard fired a teasing glance in her direction. "Although you did have your biotics to fall back on, even then." Shepard paused whilst tugging on her boots and frowned thoughtfully. "Are there many asari born without biotic powers?"

The eyebrow-like markings on Liara's forehead shot upward. "Few enough to make it relatively rare. There are varying degrees of potential, but for it to be absent altogether? Like being born Ardat-Yakshi, it is another possible adverse result of being born of two asari parents. With the stigma attached to purebloods, being born without biotics is especially rare in my generation."

With her boots on, Shepard stood and regarded Liara with a level stare. Her bondmate's expression was largely blank, save for the slight furrowing of her brow which indicated she was deep in thought. "Hey…" Shepard drew Liara's attention. "I haven't forgotten that we need to talk, Li. I just need to do this first."

Liara inclined her head slightly. "I know, Evan."

"You could come with me you know," Shepard suggested. "I'm always pestering you to take a walk with me."

"I have-"

"Work to do," Shepard finished, smiling wryly. "As always. I don't think I'll be long." She retrieved her Phalanx pistol from their small weapons locker by the door. "And I'm armed. Look, perfectly well prepared."

Liara offered her bondmate a reassuring smile in the moments before she stepped outside. The expression came easily because she could so clearly see the woman she loved standing in front of her. Shepard's smile was one of old, from a time before the Reaper War. It reminded her of those heady days aboard the _Normandy_ SR-1. Saren. Benezia. Kaidan Alenko. Therum. Noveria. Ilos. Old names that no longer seemed to belong to this life. The stakes had been high even then, but life had seemed simpler.

As she made her way up the stairs with the firm intention of returning to work, Liara had the distinct feeling that everything was going to be alright between them. Shepard was healing, slowly but surely. Liara continued walking, but managed to make it barely past the top of the stairs. She paused at the door to the spare bedroom whilst still staring at the door to her office. With only a moment's hesitation, she palmed it open. Having never been used, the bed was bare. However the only other differences from the room that she shared with Shepard were the lack of windows and accoutrements of life. Although Liara had no intention of residing on Omega permanently, she realised that more of an effort could be made to make the apartment more inviting. _I will spend less time working_ , she promised herself.

A concerted effort consigned work to the backburner. Liara gathered up crisp, clean sheets from a storage cupboard and lost herself in the simple task of making up the bed.

* * *

 

Shepard located the small clinic in the Fumi District with relative ease. She watched the door for several minutes. Only a limping turian emerged, hobbling away at a painfully slow pace. Her entrance a few moments later seemed to go unnoticed. When she stepped into the dimly lit interior, she was met with an array of chemical smells, all reminding her that she did not like doctors or places of treatment. The first room was obviously intended as a reception. It was cramped and spartan, little more than four empty walls containing several battered chairs. However, unlike most places on Omega, every surface was pristine. The open door on the other side of the room beckoned, Shepard knocked lightly on the frame.

"Hello?" She peered beyond but saw only a closed privacy curtain.

Silence was her only reply for several moments. She was about to call out again when a gruff voice responded. "Not dying are ya?"

"Um…no," Shepard replied. "I'm looking-"

"Be with ya in a minute then," was the curt reply. "Unless you'd rather I left this poor sod's guts hanging out?"

"No, by all means…finish…whatever it is you're doing."

By the time Shepard heard the sounds of movement beyond the door, she was feeling slightly faint from the clinic's aromas. A gnarled old turian emerged, still wearing an operating gown and nonchalantly wiping his bloody hands on a towel. His flanges twitched in surprise when he saw her. Shepard suddenly missed that bastard Garrus Vakarian. She fervently hoped he'd found something to calibrate on Rannoch.

"You sure you're not dying?" he demanded. "Are humans supposed to look green?"

"What? Green? No, I just don't like that smell," Shepard said as she made a vague gesture in the air.

The turian sniffed deeply, flanges twitching furiously for a few moments. "What smell? Nothing but disinfectant and anaesthetic. Guess it is a change from the usual shit and garbage outside. So, what can I do for you, human?"

"I'm actually looking for someone, a young asari. I believe she came in here a few hours ago."

The response was like a door being slammed in her face. With his arms folded over his broad chest, the turian shook his head. "Can't help you."

Shepard frowned. "Can't or won't? Her name is Mycea Kasos." The turian's expression was especially unreadable, even for a turian. She sighed. "I guess anyone could walk in here and say they're a friend of someone. If you see her, can you let her know that Evan is looking for her? She'll find me, she always does."

"Evan huh?" His words interrupted her mid stride. "Might be that she mentioned ya once or twice…or possibly in every second sentence. Damn asari thinks you're some sort of hero the way she talks. I expected someone…taller, or at least more impressive."

"Is she here?" Shepard asked, masking the expectancy in her voice.

He shook his head regretfully. "Came in asking for medigel and dressings. Does it all the time. I expect she's probably found yet another lowlife lying in a back alley with a stab wound. Dunno why she bothers trying to help them. I always tell her she's only prolonging the inevitable. But she keeps asking and I keep giving it to her." He shrugged to emphasise the fact that he probably wasn't immune to Myke's persuasive powers.

The doctor's explanation both heightened Shepard's concern and piqued her curiosity. "I didn't know."

He grunted at Shepard's ignorance. "It's only me working here so she volunteers sometimes, lends a hand…less since she's been tagging around with you." The accusation was blatant.

Shepard ignored the tone. "So you must know her fairly well. Dr…?"

Another contemptuous grunt followed. "I’m no doctor. Name's Prax. I just happen to be the only fool around here stupid enough to waste my time patching people up for free. Aria may be Queen, but she doesn't give a fuck about the provision of clinics on Omega. It's supposed to be survival of the fittest around here."

"You mustn't believe that or else you wouldn't waste your time trying to help your patients," Shepard pointed out.

Prax shrugged and looked awkward for a few moments. He coughed and returned to Shepard's original question. "I know Myke well enough, better than most. She's been hanging around these Districts as long as I can remember. Helping me for the better part of a decade. Don't know too much about her past other than what I've heard – damned long asari life spans and all. Rumour has it her mother was this big shot mercenary. 'Bout sixty, seventy years ago, no one knows why, she tried to take Aria down. Guess she must have been deluded." He laughed derisively. "I don't know how familiar you are with Aria T'Loak, human, but she isn't known for her mercy, especially not to those who threaten her domain."

"I may have heard a few things," Shepard nodded nonchalantly.

"Well, word has it that this was one of the bloodiest operations since T'Loak came to power – a total annihilation. Aria's forces routed the rebels. Damn near flayed their leader alive, strung the corpse up and left it to rot in the marketplace. If it's all true I dunno why Aria would've spared a kid in the midst of all that, but that's the rumour."

"Myke never mentioned any of that to me," Shepard eventually said in a numb voice.

"Did you ask?" Prax fired back. "Anyway, we done here, human? I got shit to do." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, probably where he'd left the aforementioned sod with his guts hanging out.

"Just one more thing. Do you know where to find her?"

He gave her a level stare for a moment, as though judging her. Eventually he responded with a curt nod. "Try Doru, sector 5b."

Without a further word, Prax disappeared into the rear of the clinic. Shepard was left to see herself out. A heavy weight settled on her shoulders as the turian's brief story lingered in her head. Her mind filled in some of the gaps left by his scant exposition. She tried to equate the optimistic young asari she knew with someone who had seen her mother killed and displayed in such a horrific fashion. Two such individuals were incongruous. All Shepard could think about was Myke's obvious delight at having been shot and the brief insights she had gleaned from Prax. Nothing explained her blithe ignorance and naivety. For some reason the thought of passing the information onto Liara for further investigation made her apprehensive, but she now realised it was a necessity. Her instincts told her that there was more to the whole situation.

A map on her omni-tool guided Shepard to sector 5b in the Doru District – near the central support column for the entire station. The industrial milieu that greeted her was stark. Everything had largely fallen into a state of decay. Machinery that had either been damaged during the Cerberus takeover, or possibly even prior, sat idle. There were no essential systems in her immediate vicinity, nothing other than a warren of dead circuits, empty vats, and catwalks leading nowhere. Shepard's lonely bootfalls echoed as she explored. It was the only sound save for the distant rattle of Omega's ventilation systems. There were no residential buildings or even slum tenements. Even the desperate would not choose to live there. For some reason Prax had lied.

Shepard paused as a view opened up beneath the catwalk she was standing on. A sea of lights glittered below, all hazy neon and the fleeting glimpse of passing sky cars. She could feel the vibrant hum of Omega despite the distance. Even with the recent occupation still hanging over it, the station practically teemed with life. The view was breath-taking, almost beautiful. What she could not feel was the threat of violence, that ubiquitous sense of danger at every turn. Suddenly the deserted environs did not feel so insentient and bleak. She realised that Prax had told the truth even before she sensed a presence watching her.

"I can take care of myself you know."

The sudden sound surprised Shepard by coming from somewhere above. She spun, finding a familiar face staring down at her from an adjacent catwalk. Myke was perched on the edge with her feet dangling down just above Shepard's head. The dim, yellow lighting made it difficult to ascertain whether she was alright, but Shepard was pleased to hear the defiance in her voice.

Shepard replied with a shrug. "I'm just admiring the view."

Mycea snorted. "No one comes here for the view."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because _no one_ comes here," she replied, resting her chin on the railing directly in front of her. "You _are_ checking up on me."

"Liara said you left without saying goodbye. I thought you might stick around and, you know, see if I was alright when I woke up?" Shepard suggested, deftly avoiding mentioning the gunshot wound.

The asari's hard stare finally relaxed into her trademark smile at the suggestion. "As if you wouldn't be! You took on four mercs by yourself, hardly earning a scratch. Those morons limped off, dragging their wounded." Myke punched the air in front of her, once, twice – then promptly winced in pain as she accidentally used her injured arm. "Fuck," she muttered irritably.

Shepard's own expression sympathetically mirrored that of the young asari. She folded her arms across her chest. "You shouldn't be out here. Go home, Myke…rest," Shepard urged. "I'll walk you."

Mycea lowered her gaze. "I am home."

"This is home?" Shepard asked in disbelief, looking around her.

She had already admitted that the view was nice, but in all other respects there was very little to recommend it as anything other than an industrial wasteland. Myke refused to meet her eyes. Shepard realised that she had completely and utterly jammed both feet into her mouth in a spectacularly witless display. Without offering a word of her own, Myke rose slowly to her feet. She did not flee from the scene so much as trudge. Shepard accepted the slow pace as an invitation to follow, finding a set of connecting stairs to take her up onto the higher catwalk. An apology remained unspoken on her lips as she followed at a discreet distance.

The meandering path took them further into Omega's bowels to the point where Shepard knew she would have difficulty finding her own way out. They left the spectacular view of the station behind them, trading it for the security of concealment and seclusion. Scattered light tubes became few and far between. Some were broken, while others flickered in a vain attempt to be useful. Myke paused at a door up ahead. Much to Shepard's surprise, when the asari placed her palm against the locking mechanism it suddenly whirled into life. With a grating protest, the door slid open to reveal darkness beyond. Myke ushered her through.

With Shepard's eyesight adjusted to the darkness, a sudden soft glow of light seemed harsh and blinding. She blinked rapidly, clearing her vision until she could see the space around her and take everything in. In more prosperous times the space had probably been used as a foreman's office. The bones of such use were still there – cabinets along one wall, a desk, and a few lockers. The desk had been converted into a bed with a lumpy mattress, while the cabinets held assorted trinkets and potentially useful items that had obviously been salvaged from across Omega. One of the locker's hung open, revealing a few neatly hung clothes. Overall, however, the space was mean, saved from being miserable only by Mycea's hopeful face in the midst of it all.

"It's…cosy," Shepard managed.

Mycea smiled nervously. "I had somewhere nicer, with an actual window, but when Cerberus took over the station it was destroyed along with all my stuff. There's a bathroom though…water works most of the time…and it's free…" She paused and stared at Shepard without saying anything for almost a minute. Her expression crumpled along with her body as she sat heavily on the corner of her bed. "Although now that you're here, it all seems kind of pathetic."

There was one chair in the room but Shepard did not know whether it would hold her weight. She elected to lean against the wall. "It's home," she replied tactfully.

"I guess, yeah, it is." Myke nodded. "How did you find me? You can't exactly look this place up on the extranet."

"Paid a visit to Prax. He recognised my name, guess he trusted me enough to tell me where you were," Shepard explained.

"That old turian bastard," she growled good-humouredly. "He probably told you I talk about you all the time huh?" Shepard nodded and Myke winced. "Nothing that might make him realise that you were _the_ Commander Shepard though."

Shepard elected not to quiz Myke on her mother, especially not when she noticed the dark bags beneath her eyes and the sag to her shoulders. Despite her stubborn determination, the asari was clearly exhausted and needed to rest. Although the little space was homely enough, Shepard could not bring herself to leave Myke there and return to her spacious, comfortable appointed apartment. However she could not think of a convincing argument that wouldn't come across as patronising.

"The first time we met, you offered to work for me – run messages and such. Was that an honest offer or were you just bullshitting me?" Shepard asked.

Myke straightened and tilted her chin upward. "I don't bullshit…well, sometimes yeah I do…but that was a straight up offer. Why?"

"I'm thinking of taking you up on it. You wouldn't be able to stay here though, it's too far away to be convenient-"

"I'll find a closer place!" Myke interrupted, sitting forward.

_I'll find you a closer place._ Shepard inclined her head in a business-like manner. "And the pay wouldn't exactly be a fortune-"

The asari's jaw dropped. "Pay? You'll pay me?"

"That's the definition of a job." As Shepard said it she couldn't resist a smile. "You get paid. In the meantime, Liara and I will put you up at our place for a couple of days. We've got a spare room."

When Shepard saw the first glimmer of hesitation appear on Myke's face at her suggestion, she wondered if her poorly concealed ruse had failed. The entire offer was nothing short of condescending. Myke had probably lived this way for decades. Shepard was essentially telling her she couldn't look after herself.

"You throw in a meal allowance and you got a deal," Myke eventually said, the apprehension was banished behind yet another grin.

Well...maybe she couldn't look after herself.

"Deal."

Shepard could convince herself that she was doing this because Myke was wounded on her account. Hell, jumping on the turian's back had probably turned the course of the fight. There was a momentary flash of concern that she hadn't asked Liara first, but that passed as she lost herself in the elated expression on Myke's face. It was the right thing to do.

* * *

 

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2**

"Haven't you got something, you know, a little smaller?" Sam protested.

She hated the querulous tone in her voice. Ashley was giving up a portion of her scant downtime. So far she had complained about the time (it was 0300, the middle of her sleep cycle), being made to wear armour, and now the size of the weapon being pressed into her hands. The beast of a gun was completely terrifying. Even holding it with both arms, she could barely carry it let alone try to lift it to her shoulder.

Ashley's face broke into a shit-eating grin. "Just having you on, Sam. I don't doubt your strength, but you wouldn't be able to fire this gorgeous baby without physical augmentation."

Sam gratefully passed the Back Widow back to the grinning Captain. "Doubt my strength all you want, ma'am. I'll readily admit that I have none whatsoever."

It was true enough. Regular training sessions had done very little to enhance her spindly physique. She continued to fall off the treadmill at the end of a run, still wheezing and gasping as severely as she had the first time. The lack of progress had frustrated her at first, now she simply accepted that her physical form was not meant to change. Unfortunately her CO didn't agree. Which was why she now found herself standing in the _Normandy's_ shuttle bay at 0300hrs, kitted out in a combat hardsuit, about to undergo her first rifle training since basic. Ash had insisted she do things properly from the outset, hence the suit.

Sam stared dubiously at the M-96 Mattock extended toward her. It was the same weapon she'd carried down to Horizon, but in that instance she hadn't expected to fire it.

"Chief?" Ash prodded. "Unless you'd rather go back to bed?"

"That's an option?" Sam asked, eyes wide with hope. Too late she realised that Ashley was being sarcastic.

Ash scowled. "Do you want to do this or not, Traynor?" Her harsh bark surprised Sam enough to prevent an immediate reply. Her face softened. "I'm not trying to transform you into SpecOps material. There are times when I'm going to need my tech specialist in the field. I don't want to send you out there without preparing you."

Sam accepted the assault rifle. She tucked the butt purposefully against her shoulder. "Righto, ma'am. No more playing silly buggers. Teach me how to drill someone between the eyes at a hundred yards."

"You do realise you have to crawl before you can sprint?" Ash asked dubiously. The Captain then saw Sam's lips crinkle into a slight grin. "Let's settle for painting the target accurately first."

The Mattock had been modified for training, fitted with a laser targeting system that was aligned to the corresponding target at the other end of the shuttle bay. When Sam positioned herself according to Ashley's instructions and jerked the trigger, the gun jumped soundlessly in her hands. The target responded by glaring at her with an accusatory red light.

"You're breathing too hard," Ash said gently, reaching out to adjust Sam's grip slightly. "Slow down. The rifle's an extension of you, it reacts with each breath, each twitch. Squeeze the trigger, don't yank on it."

Sam held her breath and gently depressed the trigger. The rifle jumped again and the target rewarded her effort with flash of green. It was a little off centre, but Sam felt a surge of pride. Her confidence bolstered, she sent a quick flurry of shots in the direction of the target. All but one missed and she scowled in annoyance.

"Good enough to keep heads down while you advance," Ash reassured her.

The Ops Chief turned to flash her CO a relieved smile. "Why couldn't I have had you in basic instead of sadistic arseholes who constantly yelled in my ear?"

"The breed sadistic arseholes especially to scare the bejesus out of FNGs," Ashley quipped in reply.

An hour passed with Sam barely noticing the passage of time. Under Ashley's patient instruction, her world became limited to the Mattock and the target. There was no miraculous transformation into a sharpshooter, but Sam felt confident that she could at least hit a stationary target. Several times Ash had surprised her by clapping her hands close to her ears. Once she had even gone as far as throwing an un-primed inferno grenade in her direction. The squawk of terror and graceless combat roll had earned mixed results. The roll was good, the squawk was not. Each time, without fail, Sam's aim was spoiled and she was reminded just how far she still had to go.

As Sam stripped the rifle at the end of the session, she was pleased that she had dragged herself out of her rack at 0300. With Ash's positive instruction, she felt sure that she could eventually change her status as a liability in combat. Her CO sat beside her, deft fingers cleaning the mechanisms of her beastly sniper rifle. As far as Sam could tell, the Black Widow was already perfectly clean.

"Thanks for this."

Sam suddenly felt awkward breaking what had been a companionable silence.

"It's for my own benefit as much as yours," Ash replied bluntly. "I need a well-trained squad at my back. One I can trust to get the job done. Especially in times like this." Her gaze misted over as she stared at an indeterminable point in the distance. "Especially now."

"I won't let you down," Sam said earnestly.

"I know you won't, Chief. You're family." Ash's voice was sincere.

Sam bit her lip. "Speaking of family…how is Mir…Second-Lieutenant Lawson?"

"Dunno," was the curt answer. "I'm the last person to find out how she's doing, or even where the hell she's posted. Could be some top secret R & D facility for all I know."

Sam's thoughts automatically went to the last time she had seen Miranda. She vividly remembered the docks in Sydney and Miranda's mention of receiving her posting. It was all the information Sam had, but it was currently more than Ashley knew. "Ma'am, I…" The admission died on her lips. If she told Ash anything, she'd be forced to explain the chance encounter. The promise that Miranda had extracted from her in Australia would be broken. "I'm sure you're not far from her thoughts, wherever she is."

Ash's mouth was set into a grim line for a few moments. "I'm beginning to doubt that." Even as Ash said it, she had difficulty believing her own words. Regardless of the lack of communication, she knew undoubtedly that her time with Miranda had not been a lie. A shadow of unease began to creep into her thoughts. Should she have spent the last few weeks concerned as opposed to angry? Miranda had always been resourceful, but she was still just one woman. _Damn, why did my brain have to go there?_ Ashley cursed. She turned to see that Sam was staring at her with an optimistic expression on her face.

"Chief…Sam…I need to ask you for a favour…only on the proviso that you can say no," Ashley began. "I'm not asking you to break regs or do anything illegal…"

Sam's stomach twisted into a painful knot as she listened. Ashley was inadvertently bringing up the indiscretion that Sam had been trying to forget. However she also knew what Ashley was about to ask and saw an opportunity to partially atone for her crime.

Ash gave Sam a hopeful glance as she continued, "Can you find her for me?"

* * *

 

**Mindoir, Attican Traverse**

Jack Zero had an instinctive reaction whenever she laid eyes on the Cerberus whore. Her eyes narrowed, one corner of her lip curled up. Even here, on Mindoir, literally light years away from their past, she continued to associate the woman with everything Cerberus had done to her on Pragia. Her mere presence was enough to bring back memories of the isolation and torture that represented her childhood.

If Jack was being honest with herself, she did it deliberately. Didn't want to stop either. The bloody perfect cheerleader may as well have had a target painted on her forehead. Although Miranda was wearing an Alliance uniform ( _fucking perfectly pressed even in this shithole_ ), with her hair drawn back into a painfully neat knot at the nape of her neck, she was still essentially the same woman Jack had tried to smear across the walls of _Normandy's_ subdecks. Miranda had tried to do the same to her in return. With just a few choice words, Jack had stripped away the Operative's carefully maintained poise, reducing her to a wild harridan intent only on violence. The resulting biotic mêlée had pushed them both to their limits. Jack had blown out almost every light on the deck, reducing them to fighting in the semi-darkness of emergency lighting. Miranda had slammed Jack hard enough against an internal bulkhead to buckle it.

Jack had the whiff of victory from the outset. Daddy's manufactured biotics were good, but they were outdated compared with the decades of Cerberus research that had been poured into her slight frame. The cheerleader must have known, yet she had fought a losing battle. It was the only time Jack had ever respected the bitch.

One of Jack's most cherished memories was the look of pure panic in Miranda's eyes when she pressed her back against the wall. Her small hand, wreathed in biotic energy, was wrapped around Miranda's neck in a choke-hold. There was a moment when Miranda realised that Jack hated her enough to continue squeezing. The way her lips mouthed 'please' had been exquisite.

She'd never had the chance to find out whether killing Miranda would have excised some of her demons. Shepard had intervened, bodily tearing them apart. The Commander's rage had been palpable. Jack had presumed that she was concerned about her fuck buddy, but Miranda had been dressed down just as severely.

All of these memories kept Jack's mind busy as she watched Miranda through narrowed eyes. Her fellow Alliance Officer ( _a_ _fucking joke_ ) skirted around the edge of the dusty yard that served as a training area. Jack was supposed to be overseeing a squad in hand-to-hand combat training, but she had a better idea.

"Lawson!"

Miranda winced at the harsh sound of her name being screeched out over the distance. Jack Zero's voice had always grated her nerves, today was no different. When she stopped and stared defiantly at the smaller woman, she guessed the intent behind the challenge immediately. She could already see a smile of anticipation spreading across Jack's face. Remaining composed, Miranda could see the attraction in letting off some steam. However she knew that neither her arm, nor Jack's inherent psychopathic tendencies would allow any sparring session to end well.

Jack sauntered toward her, chin thrust forward, hands clenched into fists at her sides - a posturing braggart who unfortunately had the talent to back it up. Although she had not seen Jack in action for some time, Miranda doubted that the other woman had lost her edge.

"What d'ya say we go a few rounds? Show these guys how a couple of biotics can own a fight?" Jack looked around approvingly as several cheers went up from the assembled marines.

_Or how you can own me_ , Miranda thought. Her pride would simply not allow it. The one and only time they had fought, the only witnesses to her humiliation had been Jack herself, and Shepard.

"My apologies, ma'am," Miranda replied with remarkable cool. "I have duties to attend to."

Miranda left it at that. Simply turned her back and walked away. The knowledge that Jack would be left seething behind her was almost tempting enough to make her turn around. Not wanting to prod the angry predator, she resisted the temptation.

Her satisfaction lasted only as long as it took to walk back to the prefab that served as her quarters. She tried to close the door, only to find it barred by a lean, sinewy arm. Jack was leering at her, clearly riled at having her sport ruined. Miranda recoiled, retreating into her room.

"I won't fight you, Jack." Miranda wouldn't continue to call Jack 'ma'am' in private.

"Clearly. Cos you're chicken shit," Jack taunted.

The insult was weak. Even Jack knew it wasn't true. She'd seen Miranda fight. Seen her crack the skulls of mercs on Omega without batting an eye. Watched her slog her way through the hordes of Collector forces until her face was slick with sweat and twisted with the pain of over exertion. Her perfect features rendered haggard as she left everything on the battlefield. Just because that particular insult wasn't true, did not mean she hated Miranda any less.

"Don't want to break a nail?" Jack pressed.

Miranda fought the urge to make a crack about not wanting to break Jack's face, knowing it would push the volatile biotic over the edge. "Do you honestly consider it appropriate for enlisted personnel to watch their officers smear each other across the yard?"

Jack smirked predictably. "Fuck yeah."

"Then go play in someone else's toy box." Miranda waved Jack away in a bored fashion. "I've long since outgrown your games."

"You know of any other Cerberus whores on Mindoir? Just point them out and I'll happily go deal with them first," Jack retorted.

Miranda sighed. "I see you haven't outgrown any of your old tendencies. Especially the need to assign blame. Cerberus doesn't exist. The Illusive Man, the Operative network, everything is gone. This revenge you're seeking? You won't find it."

"Won't I?" Jack narrowed her eyes. "You're still here. Wearing an Alliance uniform like there's no fucking problem with it. Switching allegiances is like tapping a button for you isn't it? I guess it's easier when you live your life without consequences, without a thought for those you trample beneath you."

"There are always consequences," Miranda insisted. She thought of Shepard, of the rescue, and the lingering suspicions carried by Christiane Alves.

"Ha!" Jack snorted. "How much prison time did you do?"

"The Alliance had every opportunity to imprison me at the end of the war. I did not hide." Miranda was growing impatient. This conversation was cutting into her precious downtime. "Speak your mind, Jack, or get out."

"Why don't you go crawl under a fucking rock?" Jack was clearly running out of insults. She was still desperate for the fight.

"Because, Jack, that would be the easy route," Miranda said calmly. It was difficult to keep the conceit from her voice, but she managed it. She had to admit that it was a tempting thought. Any rock would do, so long as Ashley was with her. There was nothing but an inane sense of duty that kept her tied to Mindoir, kept her close to Jack Zero. Miranda regarded the other woman with a calm, impassive gaze. She saw the unbridled fury that gripped her entire body. The hatred radiated from her tattooed skin, almost like a heat wave. Jack was a hornet's nest, and Miranda's mere presence was the stick poking it repeatedly. She was determined to be the better person. "There's nothing I can say that will erase what Cerberus did to you, but it is imperative that we find some common ground, some way to work together."

Jack's lips peeled back into a snarl. Miranda hadn't simply poked the nest, she'd whacked it from the tree.

"Cerberus kidnapped me from my fucking family, you arrogant cunt! Tortured me as though I was some piece of meat instead of a goddamn kid."

_A piece of meat_. Miranda could sympathise. She remembered clearly how Henry Lawson would look at her. He never saw his daughter, only his legacy. She did not want to compare herself to Subject Zero, but they had both been created to be used by others. "I am truly sorry."

Jack let out a guttural growl. "Argh! Get fucking angry dammit! Why the fuck can't you be normal?" she demanded in a savage voice.

Miranda was stunned into a momentary silence at the unexpected question - or at least at the fact that it originated from Jack. "Normal, Jack?" she asked in a scorn-laden voice. "You are the last person I would have expected to use that word. Can you explain to me your definition of normal? Should I get a tattoo or start wearing my uniform in a non-regulation fashion?"

A mocking sneer twisted Jack's features. "Non-regulation fashion," she repeated, mocking Miranda's accent. "We're on fucking Mindoir and you still act like there's a stick jammed up your ass. You want people to like you? You want to know my definition of normal? It's ripping that stick out and loosening up! Even this goddamn room is so fucking neat it gives me a headache just looking at it!"

Jack crossed to the neatly stacked piles of datapads and books on Miranda's desk. With a contemptuous swipe of her arm, she knocked them askew. One book fell to the floor, landing with the thud at their feet. Miranda's entire body twitched in response. She had to deliberately stifle the intense urge to restore her perfectly ordered environment. Her gaze travelled to the floor and her eyes widened when she saw that it was her leather-bound copy of Tennyson's poems. The antique volume lay with its binding splayed open. It had been a gift from Ashley. As she reacted, dropping to the floor to retrieve it, Jack's booted foot came crashing down atop the book. The heavy sole crushed the fragile binding.

The calm that Miranda had displayed earlier disappeared and her biotics finally flared. Wreathed in blue, she ignored her own internal admonishment to restrain her temper. All she could think of was pummelling the callous expression from Jack's face. Anger thumped through her veins. With an inhuman effort, she wrestled her emotions under control. _You are the better person_ , she promised herself.

With the mantra keeping her temper in check, she was unprepared for the blue brick wall that rushed forward, slamming her backward against her locker. The force was such that the door buckled inward. With the air knocked out of her lungs, Miranda's own field died and she dropped to the floor like a stone. Jack gloated over her with a lazy grin on her face.

"Bitch please. If you're not going to use it, don't bother summoning it."

She dropped into a crouch, bringing her down to Miranda's eye level and close to the fallen book. Without taking her eyes from Miranda, she seized the book by its cover. The pages fluttered. Miranda was momentarily relieved to see that it was still intact. Then a single square of thin plastic dropped from between the pages. As Jack casually scooped it up, Miranda's insides turned to ice. Of all the sentimental items she had to keep poorly hidden, it was the one she wanted no one to find.

The expression on the ex-convict's face did not change as she studied the image imprinted on one side. Miranda had stared at the image herself so often that she could summon it at will. Taken during their brief time in Australia, the photo was an intimate snapshot that perfectly captured the emotions associated with a pair of lovers. Ashley was wearing nothing more than a white tank top, stretched tight over her otherwise unencumbered breasts. She was laughing as she took the photo because Miranda had surprised her by nibbling at her earlobe. Miranda herself was in profile, only one naked shoulder visible. Her hair was wild and unkempt.

When she asked herself why she hadn't left the photo on her omni-tool, Miranda already knew the answer. She desperately wanted something tangible to hold onto instead of fleeting digital memories. Now, because of her sentimental foolishness, Jack was devouring the private memory with her eyes. The individual she hated with a fiery passion, enjoying an insight into her life with the woman she loved.

Half a dozen reactions flashed behind her eyes. Some involved lashing out, others involved denial. Attempting to diffuse the situation with humour failed even in her head. There was only one option available. Miranda hated being the supplicant. Jack would get off on it. She swallowed her pride and asked. "Can I have the picture back? Please?"

Bruised and aching, Miranda simply stared at Jack with a resigned expression on her face. She held out her good arm. Jack was usually an open book. Her expression was unreadable as her gaze passed back and forth between Miranda and the picture. Eventually a tiny furrow appeared on her brow. It gave her thoughts away. She was trying to reconcile the women she hated with the one in the picture.

After a few seconds, the other biotic rose to her feet. Without a word she casually flicked the picture to the ground. Miranda retrieved it slowly, disbelief registering on her face.

When Jack turned to leave, she paused before opening the door. Looked over her shoulder. Her expression was unreadable in profile. "This stays between us, cheerleader. I don't care who you're fucking."


	24. Pink Knickers (aka Reconnection)

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2**

Other than the men's bathroom, the XO's quarters were the one place onboard the _Normandy_ that Ashley Williams had never been. She had little reason to. The quarters had obviously been off-limits during Liara's tenure to preserve the secrecy of the Shadow Broker network. Even though her new XO had been in post for over a month, Ash avoided meeting with Grenier in his office. She knew full well that it was her subconscious fear that some sense of Miranda's presence would remain. It was a ridiculous concern. Most of the interior had been stripped in order to shoehorn Liara's tech into the space. Ashley had caught glimpses of the banks of monitors and servers on occasion. Everything had been irretrievably wiped when Liara left the _Normandy_. The asari had excised all evidence of both the Broker's Network and her existence from the ship. The refit team had then stripped the tech and restored it to a functional Alliance standard.

The door slid open. As Ash crossed the threshold her gaze immediately went to Grenier seated on a low sofa much like the one in her own quarters. The bed remained at the rear, ostensibly unchanged from when the office had belonged to Miranda. Ash imagined the Cerberus Operative, as she would have been, lowering herself into bed at the end of a long shift. That image remained elusive, always on the edge of consciousness. She had only known that woman as a symbol. A focal point for her anger and frustration.

Ash taunted herself by wondering what choosing a different path would have meant for their relationship. Horizon could have been that turning point. If she had not thrown Shepard's offer to join the SR-2 back in her face, would she have still found the courage to open up to Miranda? Or would any spark that lay between them have been quashed by loathing on her part and indifference on Miranda's. Ash gave it up as pointless speculation. And she was having difficulty concentrating on the time when she hated Miranda. The memories were there, but her mind stubbornly replaced them with pleasant ones.

She refocused her attention on Leon Grenier. Her XO was on his feet. An expectant expression on his face indicated that he had probably already offered a greeting while she was deep in thought.

"Have you got a moment, LC?" She injected some enthusiasm into her voice.

"Of course, ma'am," Grenier replied quickly. "Just reviewing crew rotas. Nothing that can't wait. Take a seat."

Ash passed him a datapad before she folded herself down onto the sofa. As her body relaxed, she realised that she had not sat down since eating a quick meal four hours ago. She watched Grenier's face as he studied the pad's contents. His brow furrowed thoughtfully at a few junctures, but at no point did he appear to balk. Eventually he set it aside and returned her gaze calmly.

"I take it this mission isn't exactly sanctioned by HQ?" he asked.

"Nope," Ashley replied bluntly. "It's a SpecTRe's prerogative. The Alliance has requested the _Normandy's_ participation in a fly-past and parade on Elysium."

"And you'd rather be going toe-to-toe with mercs in the Terminus systems?" Grenier continued.

"They'd prefer to think of themselves as entrepreneurs." Ash scowled. "I think of them as scumbags. Whichever way you want to look at it, it's clearly a problem that needs to be solved."

Grenier nodded in agreement. His expression was tense. "A claim of an intact, weapons capable Reaper being offered to the highest bidder? That…is a serious problem. But one for the _Normandy_? You and I both know that the Alliance has absolutely no influence in the Terminus. We'd be out there on our own."

"Not quite. I've got Council support on this one. The _Normandy_ will be operating as part of a small, covert squadron whilst remaining under my command," Ash explained. "I'm filing a rough flight plan with HQ without giving away our exact destination or purpose. I think if the Alliance were to get wind of this, they'd want the tech for themselves. The Council feels as though it's a palpable threat and needs to be eliminated. I agree."

"So we're kind of like the mercs…only we're not getting paid and we're probably pissing off our actual employers."

The Captain cocked her head to one side. "Nervous, Leon?"

He suddenly offered a grin in response. "Nope…eager. When do we get started?"

The grin was infectious. Ash realised that she was in danger of becoming overzealous with her own enthusiasm. The reality of the situation was very serious. While intact Reaper technology was a common property, active Reaper technology was not. The pulse that had been emitted from the Crucible had rendered the massive ships nothing more than lifeless hulks. Most had been destroyed – either as a result of uncontrolled collisions or by trigger-happy Galactic forces seeking one final act of retribution against their foe. Ash did not even want to consider the possibility of something so potentially devastating falling into the wrong hands.

"We're already underway," Ash informed him. She had not come to ask Grenier's permission. The _Normandy_ was her command. Her XO's approval however had been important. "A source has provided us with some useful intel regarding possible locations, I'd appreciate your help analysing it en route."

"I suppose this is the kind of source that cannot be revealed?" he asked out of curiosity.

Ash simply nodded. She wasn't about to tell him that the source had once inhabited the very same office in which they now sat. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments. Grenier retrieved the datapad and was flicking through the material a second time. Although trying not to intrude on her XO's personal space, Ash could not help but notice an intimately familiar face peering back at her from a picture frame on the nearby desk. She would have recognised the picture in a heartbeat as she had the very same one stored on her omni. Sarah's smile beamed out at her. It was only a few months old. Taken during shore leave with Lynn and Abby, the Vancouver skyline in the background.

Leon chose that moment to look up. He caught his CO staring at the picture of her youngest sister and his face went a vibrant shade of red in response. It was much too late to do anything other than look sheepish beneath her withering glare.

"Why do I get the feeling that you enjoy making other people uncomfortable?" he asked in a brave effort to break the silence.

"Just men that want to date my sisters," Ash responded bluntly. However, as Grenier was beginning to squirm, she softened her expression, even needing to stifle a small smile. "Relax, Leon. The jury is still out but I'm pretty sure you're one of the good ones."

"Thank you, ma'am," Leon replied in a relieved voice. "I know it's not exactly going to be easy…nor is it exactly appropriate to date my CO's sister, but I like Sarah…a great deal. She's brilliant…ballsy-"

"You don't need to sell the whole thing to me, LC," Ashley interrupted. I know Sarah. I also know that I wouldn't have a chance in hell of changing her mind once it's set. Just call me Ash when we're in private though, for her sake."

He nodded. "Aye, aye…Ash."

She paused once outside his office. The kiss on Chasca had left her no doubt as to Sarah's feelings toward Leon, but a small part of her had hoped that it was nothing more than a fleeting rush of emotion. The picture on the desk meant otherwise. Ash envied the open display of affection. Her pictures of Miranda were encrypted on her omni-tool and her private terminal. While she was happy for Sarah, she was anxious at the prospect of sending her new lover into combat. Sarah had been devastated by Tom's death, Ash knew that she could not be responsible for the same happening to Leon.

For the time being she pushed her concerns to the back of her mind. Leon was her XO, it was easy enough to keep him safely on board the _Normandy_. Instead she turned her thoughts to the mercs in the Terminus Systems and the thrilling prospect of a hunt. As dangerous as it was likely to be, the mission was infinitely more exciting than any number of fly pasts on Elysium.

_And it's going to piss Kessler off_. That was a satisfying thought.

* * *

 

The atmosphere throughout the _Normandy_ crackled with anticipation. Unlike the secrecy that had surrounded Horizon, the entire crew knew that they were headed toward the Terminus Systems. A few puerile grumblings about operating outside of the Alliance's remit had been quickly silenced by the old hands. Nostalgic expressions drifted onto crewmember's faces as they sensed a return to the freedom, or possibly the mortal peril, experienced under Shepard's command.

Even Sam had to admit that she was feeling a slight thrill in response. The lethargy that she had felt several weeks earlier had gone, replaced by a renewed dedication. A tiny corner at the back of her brain was reserved for imagining herself in the midst of a squad of marines, Mattock blazing wildly in hand.

"Chief?" Sam looked up from her datapad to see Yeoman Clayton looking slightly nervous at his station. "We've got an incoming communication from Mindoir for Captain Williams, I thought you might want to intercept it as the signature is…a little odd."

Sam peered over his shoulder. "Who the bloody hell is Captain Zero? And how the hell did they get access to that channel?"

Clayton merely offered a noncommittal shrug as though saying she was the superior, it was her problem.

"Patch it through to terminal fourteen, I'll take it," Sam announced, pleased with herself for being so decisive. She also knew that Ashley would not appreciate having her time wasted by some small time Alliance bureaucrat on a colonial backwater.

As Sam settled into the chair at the vacant CIC station, she already knew that the communication was on a limited range channel. The _Normandy_ was in the general vicinity of Mindoir, although several days out and headed in the wrong direction. Sam knew the call would be choppy at best. As she tugged on an ear piece, she tightened the beam as best she could.

"This is the SSV _Normandy_ , go ahead."

There was a lengthy pause on the other end of the line before a sudden shout pierced her eardrums. _{Who the fucking hell is this?}_

Sam was slightly taken aback. Her confidence was eroded in one fell, screeching swoop. "Um, I'm Special – I mean, I'm Ops Chief Samantha Traynor."

_{Yeah, you got that right. You are fucking special,}_ was the cutting reply. _{Get me Williams.}_

"Ma'am, I'm terribly sorry but Captain Williams is occupied," Sam managed something of an authoritative tone despite the fact that she was reeling. Surely this woman wasn't an actual captain in the Systems Alliance Navy? "I would be more than happy to take a message."

_{Oh, you're terribly sorry?}_ The woman mocked Sam's accent mercilessly. _{Listen to me you posh British bitch, just tell Williams that Jack wants to speak to her…now.}_

_Jack?_ The name sparked instant recognition. Even though they had never met, Sam now knew who she was speaking to. Captain Zero. Jack Zero. The infamous psychotic biotic. The _Normandy_ crew members who had served under Cerberus colours still spoke of the petite woman with a mixture of fear and admiration.

_{I got some shit to discuss,}_ Jack continued in an impatient voice. _{Just tell her it's about the Cerberus cheerleader...shit, I mean Lawson.}_ She uttered the name as though it left a foul taste in her mouth.

"Miranda!" Sam couldn't help the exclamation. So far her subtle probes into Alliance service records had done little more than uncover the date Miranda had shipped out. "Do you know where she is? Is she alright?"

_{I wish to fuck I didn't. Look, bitch, I don't know you from any other ass wiping Alliance fucker out there-}_

"My name's Sam Traynor," the Ops Chief replied, trying to wrestle her irritation under control. She did not appreciate being called an 'ass wiper' in any sense of the word. "I served under Shepard during the war. Ashley and Miranda are my friends." Sam had absolutely no doubt as to the first assumption but she felt it might have been a stretch to label Miranda Lawson 'a friend' however. An acquaintance or object of lust was more appropriate. Regardless, she had listened to Ashley pessimistic comments a few days earlier. If this woman had the answers, then Sam wanted them. "You're the unknown quantity here, Jack."

_{Well fuck me sideways,}_ Jack exclaimed in a surprised voice. _{Posh girl's got balls after all. Okay listen up, Taylor-}_

"It's Traynor!" Sam interrupted.

_{Whatever, don't give a fuck, this is humiliating enough already. What if I told you I'm trying to get Williams a few minutes on the comm with her Cerberus girlfriend?}_

"Miranda is no longer with Cerberus," was Sam's automatic response.

Jack's answering snort sounded loud and clear. _{Please, bitch is always going to be Cerberus. Are you interested in helping me or do you not give a fuck either?}_

"Hey, I give a fuck!" Sam replied quickly. She bit her lip when she realised how loud her voice was. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Clayton was giving her a strange look. "I'm in, just tell me what to do."

* * *

 

**Mindoir, Attican Traverse**

Miranda stared at the summons on her omni-tool with a measure of disgust. Answering one of Jack's demands was never high on her list of priorities, but a summons to the comm room heralded an intense anxiety. If it suited Jack to have her talk to someone, then Miranda guessed the purpose could be nothing good. Her thoughts immediately ran to Alliance HQ. An audible groan escaped her lips when Alves's name popped into her head. Miranda hated that particular Alliance captain with a passion - possibly even more than she hated Jack.

She was further confused when she entered the comms room to find the tech staring at her expectantly. "Just connecting your call now, ma'am," he informed her. "You should be live in a few moments."

Miranda frowned. "I haven't even requested a call." Personal use of the QEC was strictly allotted. Given how difficult it was to reach Ashley, she had not even attempted to reserve a slot for some time.

He offered an unenthusiastic grunt in response, something along the lines of 'just doing what I'm told and jerked his head toward the waiting QEC. The outdated technology was restricted to a small screen, and even that frequently didn't work. There was currently nothing other than a haze of lines scrawling across the screen. Miranda entered the small room and closed the door behind her. As she crossed to the console, the connection suddenly went green.

_{This is Williams.}_

A sudden shock buffeted Miranda like a scorching wind. The words were scant and curt but they held within them a thousand memories. Kisses. Languorous, sweaty caresses. An exquisite sigh of pleasure. Fingers filling her. A tongue lashing her swollen clit. The guttural scream ripped from the pit of her belly in response. Miranda's body answered the memories instinctively. Heat flooded her core. Her knees gave way and she sank heavily against the console with a sob frozen in her throat.

_{I don't have all day over here.}_

The blatant impatience in Ashley's voice suddenly amused Miranda. Anyone could have been on the other end of the comm. An admiral, the Council. Regardless, all her lover cared about was having her time wasted. Miranda desperately wanted to be on board the _Normandy_ in that moment. She wanted the luxury to waste all the time in the world in Ash's arms.

She swallowed, moistening her throat. "I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important."

_{Miranda?}_ Ashley demanded in an incredulous tone. There was a pregnant pause. _{For the love of god please say something else. Is it really you?}_

"Of course it's me," Miranda replied. The palpable desperation in Ashley's voice utterly shattered her fragile composure. The pent-up sob eventually escaped her lips. She pressed her fist to her mouth in an effort to prevent a complete breakdown.

_{I am going to wring your scrawny little neck, Traynor.}_ Ashley clearly wasn't speaking to her at that moment. Despite her actual words, Miranda could hear the excitement in her voice. _{I don't know how you did it, but thank you.}_

Traynor's reply was indecipherable, but Miranda was grateful for the brief respite. It gave her time to stifle any further tears and ponder what she would say in the scant time available. So much had happened over the past month. Anything to do with Shepard was out of the question. Regardless of whether or not Ashley ought to know, she could not risk someone intercepting the conversation. Her relationship with Ashley was a different matter altogether. Jack finding out had been the catalyst. She no longer cared, not even if it ruined her career. The Alliance could deal with it however they chose.

They both suddenly decided to speak at the same time. _How are you?_ It was followed by mutual laughter and polite murmurs that they were _good_ or _fine_. Miranda ached to be able to see her lover, but the screen refused to show her anything other than infuriating wavy lines.

_{Where the hell are you? Why haven't you returned any of my messages?}_ The tenderness remained, but there was a slight edge to Ashley's voice as she continued.

"Messages?" She had received none. Miranda's heart sank at the thought that there were messages from Ash floating in the ether, still trying to find her. All those words that she could have read or heard. "Ash, the facilities here on Mindoir are basic at best...primitive at their worst. I don't have access to my secure account."

_{Mindoir? What the bloody hell are you doing on Mindoir?}_ Ashley demanded. Miranda clearly heard the sound of a fist striking a hard surface. _{I thought the Alliance would have locked you away in some R & D facility and instead you're out in the colonies? What the hell are they thinking? You're an asset, not some frontline grunt.}_

"No offence intended to grunts deployed throughout the Galaxy of course," Miranda murmured. A smile crossed her face. She had missed hearing Ash's passionate diatribes.

_{Fuck the grunts,}_ was Ashley's eloquent response. _{You're too valuable.}_

"To the Alliance?" Miranda asked out of curiosity.

_{To me.}_ Ashley's voice had a hard edge to it, but it was thick, as though she was choking back a multitude of emotions. _{The colonies are dangerous places, M – especially Mindoir. With the Alliance stretched thin…}_

"And you'd rather I was tucked away in some lab on Earth rather than on the front lines?" Miranda asked. There was a trace of petulance in her tone.

_{If I'm being blunt? Yes,}_ Ashley replied in a terse voice. There was another pause, then the sound of a sigh. _{I'm sorry…I just want you safe, is that too much to ask?}_

Initially Miranda didn't know whether to be touched by Ashley's concern or stifled by it. Her old self would have automatically gravitated toward the latter, but the people she had met during the last few years had forced her to realise that it wasn't a weakness to show concern, or receive it.

"I think you've earned that right," Miranda said softly. "Ash…I can only promise that I will look after myself. That's one job I am extremely good at."

_{I know you are, sweet cheeks.}_ Ashley's tone was lighter, relieved. _{But you don't have to do everything yourself. This isn't Cerberus. You've got the Marine Corps backing you up. Who have they got you serving under? I might know them. Small world and all that.}_

Miranda clenched her jaw tightly. The lie didn't spring to mind as easily as she thought it would. She opted for the truth. "Actually…funny coincidence, she's another one from the ex- _Normandy_ club, Jack Zero. Have the two of you met?"

_{Jack?}_ Ashley's response was immediate. _{How the hell? Yeah, we've met. A few times in passing, once for a drink with Tali, Garrus and Joker while the Skipper was locked up. I guess we were civil enough, shared a few jokes…but she didn't make it any secret that she hated you. I think I spent about an hour listening to the others slate you – most of it was kind of funny, but Jack's hatred was something else. She mentioned trying to smear you across the walls…that didn't actually happen did it?}_

"There was an altercation," Miranda admitted. She chose to avoid mentioning the fact that Jack had been on the verge of strangling her before Shepard intervened. "Jack has a legitimate grudge against Cerberus, she chose to take it out on me. It's in the past. We're both Alliance Officers, our relationship is purely professional."

_{Is it?}_ Ashley asked dubiously. _{When I said I want you safe, I didn't think the danger would come from your CO. Damn, I've met the woman and she's not exactly Alliance officer material.}_

"You'd be surprised," Miranda replied. "Her war record is nothing short of heroic and she commands respect." _And she's a raving, psychotic bitch_ , Miranda keep that thought to herself. "Enough about Jack, I want to hear about you."

_{The Normandy is pretty much the same as you left it – minus that horrendous fish tank. I have a good crew to back me up. The new crewmembers are everything I could have asked for – my XO in particular…he's a good guy, well, aside from the fact that he is dating my little sister. That I could do without, but I'm not going to interfere in Sarah's life,}_ Ashley explained in a breathless rush. _{After spending the better part of a month pissing around in Council Space, we're finally engaged in something worthwhile. I can't say much more beyond that, where we're going or-}_

"Ash," Miranda interrupted gently. "I didn't ask about the _Normandy_ or its crew or even your sisters – as much as I love them - I asked about you. How are _you_?"

"Fine, fantastic now I'm speaking to you," Ashley replied much too quickly.

"You sound exhausted and stressed," Miranda said honestly. "Having a good crew to back you up isn't going to be worth a thing if you don't take care of yourself. I'm out of the loop in regard to Alliance politics, but you must be coming up against them on a daily basis."

_{You know me, sweet cheeks. I'm a soldier, not a politician,}_ Ash answered breezily. _{I do my job.}_

Miranda thought Ashley's response sounded forced, but she didn't want to waste their short time together by pressing her lover for information she wasn't ready to divulge. She could fret on her own time.

"I'm sure you do, babe," Miranda continued. She finally allowed herself to slump into the seat next to the QEC console. The hope of actually receiving an image on the screen had faded, but she savoured the sound of Ashley's voice. "Ash…I'm not usually one to admit such things, but not a day goes by where I don't think of you."

_{Are you getting all romantic on me, Lawson?}_ Ashley teased.

"It's entirely probable."

There was the sound of light laughter on the other end of the channel, then the mood sobered. _{I miss you too.}_

"At least the gift I sent you will be useful," Miranda commented in a slightly mischievous voice.

_{The gift?}_ Ashley sounded confused for a moment. _{Oh, that gift! To tell the truth…not as often as I would like. The commanding officer of the_ Normandy _doesn't exactly get much time to herself. My downtime is usually spent sleeping rather than…ahem, well, you know.}_

"Getting yourself off with a fake cock?" Miranda suggested. "Whilst thinking about me of course."

_{Miranda! This is an Alliance channel!}_

"The last time I checked, fucking a fellow officer wasn't against regs," Miranda replied. "And neither was self-pleasure."

Ashley let out an unashamed groan. _{Fuck, that sounds so hot when you say it.}_

"Which part? Fucking a fellow officer or self-pleasure?"

_{All of it…anything, coming from you it's just…shit. It makes me realise the effect you have on me,}_ Ashley admitted. _{Do you know that you could ask me to do anything?}_

"Including fucking me with that cock when I see you?" Miranda knew she shouldn't have asked the question. As soon as the words left her lips, salacious images flooded her mind. She imagined hooking her legs around Ashley's back as she strained above her, taking her hard and deep with each thrust of her body. Given the impossibility of seeing Ashley anytime in the near future, it was all a form of self-torture.

Ashley spluttered incoherently for a few moments. _{You want that? Um...yeah, of course.}_ There was a lengthy pause, followed by another groan. _{Damn you, Miranda Lawson, you know full well how far it is from the QEC to the Crow's Nest. I'm going to have to walk across the CIC absolutely soaking wet.}_

Miranda let out a full-throated laugh in response, but it was masking the intense frustration that she could not experience the rewards of her foreplay. "I'm so terribly sorry."

_{No you're not,}_ Ash retorted.

Another laugh. "No, I'm not. At least I'll know this conversation was good for something." Miranda knew that her five allotted minutes were nearing an end. Saying goodbye to Ashley was the last thing she wanted to do. "I have to go, marine," she said, wrenching her emotions under control. "But we'll talk again soon…or at least you know to use my Alliance-issue email address next time. I promise to reply as often as I can."

Ashley let out a shuddering breath. _{Please do. I don't want to get all romantic on you, but I love you, Miranda Lawson. I know you're a bad ass who can take care of yourself, but be careful out there.}_

"You're the one who can't tell me where she's going," Miranda replied. "I'll still be on Mindoir…but I promise. I love you, Ash."

She refused to say goodbye. Instead she terminated the connection with an almost brutal stab of her finger. Ashley's voice was replaced by the interminable sound of loneliness. It was painful. Miranda sagged against the console, cradling her face in her hands.

Despite the emotions swirling in her gut, Miranda remained cognizant of the passage of time. She allowed herself only enough time to restore a mask of composure before leaving the privacy of the comms room. It seemed almost surreal to have to face the realities of her life on Mindoir after the conversation with Ashley. With her lover's voice foremost in her mind, she stepped outside. The technician gave her only a cursory glance.

Before she left the building, Miranda paused near the door. She glanced over her shoulder. "Who was supposed to have had this slot?"

"It was the CO's," the technician replied immediately. He did not hold Miranda's surprised gaze and returned to his duties without a second glance.

When Miranda stepped outside she was still struggling to comprehend why Jack would have done her a favour, especially one that was purely personal. She felt guilty that her gratitude was spoiled by suspicion, but she found it difficult to shake the memory of Jack's fury. It was at that point that she realised that she had been trying to be the better person, but at no point had she actually expected Jack to follow suit. Apparently her prejudices remained perfectly intact.

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

Even with the last box emptied of her meagre possessions, the apartment still felt empty. Mycea kicked the empty box to one side with her foot and sat down on the sofa to survey her hard work. Her body sank down into the cushions. She bounced a few times for effect, delighted at the simple act of sitting on her sofa. The trinkets she had salvaged from her makeshift home in the Doru District had been swallowed up by the almost cavernous space of her new apartment. There was a large living area where she was currently sitting. Shepard had apologised for the apartment's rundown state, but Myke brushed the concerns aside. It was a palace. There was actual décor – scattered furnishings, carpet, and blinds on the window. Her view was of the apartments on the opposite side of the small courtyard but in Myke's opinion it was an unrivalled vista. Her gaze travelled over the living area and up to the raised area at the back where there was an actual bed, not simply a desk with a lumpy mattress thrown on top.

Myke spread one arm across the back of the sofa in a pose of contentment. Her wounded side she kept close, although she did deliberately flex it occasionally to remind herself that she had actually been shot. She knew she had to do something about her lack of 'stuff.' With space to fill and an abundance of unwanted junk lying around Omega, Myke was looking forward to the challenge of decorating.

Then there were the other perks. Aside from obvious shelter and security, clearly the main benefit of having her own apartment was the potential to bring someone home. Her cheeks blazed almost immediately at that thought. Myke spent a decent amount of time thinking about other maidens, but she couldn't entirely be certain her own species was what she wanted. Other than staring from afar, she preferred to avoid interacting other asari. They tended toward an inflated sense of self-worth, especially the mercs or dancers in Afterlife. Myke snorted contemptuously. Any idiot could shake their hips or pull a trigger. She preferred the company of turians and batarians, but she couldn't see herself being attracted to someone with four eyes or flanges. Humans were an interesting possibility. Not that there were many left on Omega these days and certainly none that would look twice at a skinny asari. Still, she now had a job and her own pad. That had to count for something.

As she was daydreaming what it might feel like to run her fingers through hair, an abrupt buzz interrupted her concentration. It took her a few moments to realise that the sound meant there was someone at her front door. She let the sound continue for sheer novelty's sake before keying open the lock. There was no need to check the vidscreen, only Shepard and Liara knew where she lived. After spending an uncomfortable few days avoiding her as best she could, Myke did not think it would be the latter.

It was Shepard. Her friend seemed less broody of late. She had grin fixed in place as she entered the apartment. The confident demeanour that Myke had once admired from afar had returned.

Myke watched Shepard's expression carefully as she appraised the apartment, desperate for approval. A sudden thought struck her.

_Evan has hair_ , Myke mused. _Is it offensive to ask humans if you can touch their hair?_

Today the human's dark hair was drawn away from her face, bound at the back of her head and then left to fall down her back in a simple arrangement. It appeared both strange and inviting at the same time.

Oblivious to the fact that she was being scrutinised, Shepard eventually nodded her approval. "Love what you've done with the place."

"It's a work in progress." Myke couldn't stop the grin from spreading across her face. Her eyes widened as a thought suddenly entered her mind. "Hey, I have something for you. Not a thank you, it's too small…but it's a gift…of sorts."

Intrigued, Shepard watched Myke as she darted off to rummage under her bed. The asari returned with an object wrapped carefully a bundle of rags. As it was offered toward her, Shepard couldn't help but be drawn in by the furtive, hopeful expression on the young asari's face. As she began peeling back the wrappings, before she had even laid eyes on the contents, Shepard had already made up her mind to fuss over whatever was inside. She _would_ like the trinket and accept it graciously. Regardless of its possible hideousness or impracticality, she would use it or display it for Myke's sake.

"Holy shit." Shepard couldn't contain herself as the wrappings fell away. In her hands she was staring at a Cerberus Harrier. The assault rifle had seen better days. Its yellow, white and black paint scheme was chipped and worn but it was intact. She had not seen another Harrier since abandoning her shattered rifle on Alcyone. Upon wrapping her palm around the grip, it extended from its folded state. The movement was jerky, but functional. Instinctively she lifted it to her shoulder. The weight felt perfectly balanced.

"I found it when Cerberus pulled out," Myke was saying. "Don't like guns so I'm not even sure why I kept it. Guess I thought maybe I could get a few credits for it, but I never tried. It's stupid isn't it?"

Shepard shook her head. "No, Myke, it's not stupid in the slightest. I had one of these once. It was the best rifle I've ever used."

Myke beamed. "Do you think it works?"

"Well…" After popping open the firing mechanism and examining the inner workings of the Harrier, Shepard offered a reassuring smile. "There's no thermal clip, but if I strip it down and give it a thorough clean, I don't see why it shouldn't. Thank you, this is brilliant."

She rewrapped the Harrier to keep it concealed whilst carrying it back to her own apartment.

"That's why you always wear gloves," Myke announced suddenly.

"Huh?" Shepard glanced down at her hand, belatedly realising that she wasn't wearing her gloves. The left one had been shredded in the fight with Aria's mercs. If she was being honest with herself, her bare left hand was bothering her less and less. The sole reason for continuing to cover it was to avoid the stares of others. Although it wasn't unusual to have an artificial limb, the Catalyst had made Shepard's unique. She stared down at her hand, trying to see it from the viewpoint of someone who had noticed it for the first time. It stared back at her. White, unblemished. Very much a part of her. "Oh…yeah, Guess I thought it would make people nervous."

"Can I touch it?" Myke blurted out quickly. Her cheeks darkened to an even deeper shade of purple. "Shit, that's as bad as asking to touch your hair isn't it?"

Despite her previous adverse reactions to having others touch the hand, Shepard extended it toward Myke. At first, the embarrassed asari shook her head stubbornly. Then her curiosity won out. Shepard stood patiently while small blue hands probed tentatively at her palm and fingers. She felt each touch, but with the familiar feeling of distance that was now second nature to her. The polite touches lasted less than half a minute before Myke lowered her hands. Her expression was even more awestruck that usual.

"How do I get a hand like that?"

Shepard couldn't help but smile at the innocence of the question. While she had no memory of the exact moment she lost her lower arm to Harbinger's attack, she could vividly recollect the subsequent pain. Although Myke's earnest expression was strangely endearing, she had no desire to wish that on anyone.

"Trust me when I say you should stick with the hands you've got," Shepard replied. She cocked her head to one side. "You want to touch my hair?"

"Oh fuck," Myke whispered in horror. "That kind of just came out…"

"It's fine really-"

"No!" Myke half-shouted. She shook her head with an intense determination. "Can you just piss off. Now? Before I manage to think of something else stupid to ask you?"

Shepard kept the grin from her face in case it appeared patronising. She nodded. "I'll leave you in peace. Thanks for this though." She nodded toward the wrapped Harrier. As she walked away, she noted how small Mycea appeared standing in the middle of her apartment. "You're not going to get bored are you?"

Myke glanced around as if to remind herself where she was. Eventually shook her head. "Nope. I got serious plans. Lots of shit to do, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Shepard agreed. She wrinkled her nose irritably. "I have a mountain of dirty clothes to wash."

"Fuck." Myke let out a low whistle, as though Shepard had announced she was going to scale a mountain or take on another merc gang on her own. "Good luck with that."

As soon as Myke was alone in her apartment she smacked herself in the forehead. It was a predictable act, but one she felt she deserved for being Omega's biggest idiot. Nevertheless, she was pleased at Shepard's reaction to her gift. Even if the human had simply been humouring her by claiming to like the Cerberus weapon, it was done believably enough. Myke was just pleased she'd kept it.

With the apartment silent, Myke had to face the fact that she had just lied to Shepard. There were no 'serious plans' nor was there any 'shit to do' at all let alone lots of it. Eventually her bored gaze travelled to the bed and the thick mattress. A grin spread across her face as she realised that she did have something extremely important to do. With the unrestrained abandoned of someone in the privacy of their own home, Myke took a running leap onto the bed.

It was every bit as bouncy as she had anticipated.

* * *

 

There were a great number of tasks that did not faze Shepard. She could field strip any assault rifle blind-folded in a matter of seconds. Her younger self had walked into bars and confidently marched up to the most attractive woman in the room regardless of their preferences or availability (It didn't matter whether that tactic was ever successful or not). Although others regarded her driving as abysmal, Shepard thought nothing of powering a Mako at full tilt toward a geth armature. She was a woman of many skills. Apparently none of them could help her figure out how to successfully do a load of laundry.

_Shit._ Shepard held up one of her previously white vests. It was now a horrid shade of pink. Underwear, t-shirts, socks; nothing had been spared aside from the garment to blame for the disaster. She held up the newly purchased red shirt. It was still just as garish and bright as ever. With a grunt of frustration, she hurled it across the room.

"Let me guess…pink clothes?" Liara said as she made her way down the stairs.

Shepard's scowl deepened. "If you knew this was going to happen why didn't you say anything?" she demanded, shaking a pink pair of underwear in Liara's direction.

"I should have thought that removing all of my clothes from the pile was telling enough," Liara explained with a purposefully smug smile on her face. "Besides, I think you will look quite fetching in pink."

"I'll just buy more clothes," Shepard muttered. Unfortunately, most of the ruined clothing was Alliance-issue. It couldn't simply be picked up in Omega's markets.

"Evangeline Shepard!" Liara replied in a horrified voice. She reached the bottom of the stairs and pointed toward the pink pile. "They are still perfectly good clothes."

Shepard shrugged petulantly. Regardless of her bondmate's admonishment, she had absolutely no intention of strutting around Omega wearing pink clothing - not even underwear. It was irrelevant that no one else would know, _she_ would.

As she stared defiantly at Liara, Shepard finally realised that her bondmate was wearing a dress. Her eyes widened in surprise. She could have sworn that Liara had been dressed in a pair of her old cargos and a hoodie earlier that morning.

"Speaking of clothes, what are you wearing?" Shepard asked. "Not that the dress isn't nice or anything…"

To simply call the dress 'nice' was a colossal understatement. The figure hugging garment clung to Liara's curves in all the right places. It accentuated her hips and her clearly unencumbered breasts. Shepard's mouth went dry when she saw the sharp points of Liara's nipples protruding beneath the thin fabric. The whole picture was as sexy as hell, and incredibly dangerous from Shepard's perspective.

"I wanted your undivided attention," Liara explained. She continued to the sofa and took a seat, demurely sitting with her hands in her lap.

"You've definitely got it." Shepard was now having difficulty looking anywhere else. Her eyes roamed over Liara's body, drinking in her curves as her mind enthusiastically imagined how it would feel to have them beneath her hands. She let the pink underwear fall to the floor as she started forward eagerly. After a few quick steps, she ground to a stubborn halt. "Liara…you know this isn't a good idea." It took an immense effort to force the words out when they were the exact opposite of what her body wanted.

Instead of responding supportively to her bondmate's discomfort, Liara spread her arms out across the back of the sofa in a blatant display. "Why?" Liara asked calmly. "Is this not the crux of the issue? Look at me and tell me you don't want me."

"You know just how badly I want you dammit!" Shepard groaned. She refused to allow herself to move any closer. "That's what I'm scared of."

"Come and sit next to me?" Liara invited her by patting the space immediately beside her.

"No," Shepard replied stubbornly.

"Evan."

It was just her name, but it was more than enough. As though Liara had hooked her navel and was reeling her in, Shepard started forward. With the soft, sensual voice guiding her, Shepard was powerless to do anything other than what she was told. However, when she gingerly sat down, she kept her fingers laced tightly together on her lap.

They sat in silence for several minutes. It was not awkward, but the air was pregnant with unspoken tension. Shepard could hear her heart hammering in her chest – beating with an unrelenting anticipation. When Liara reached out and laid a gentle hand on her thigh, her whole body startled. The asari did not do anything other than simply touch her with the flat of her palm, but Shepard felt heat radiating downward. She stared at anything other than Liara. A light coating of dust lay on the table in front of them. Pink clothes taunted her from their small pile on the floor. She ached to toss them into the incinerator. The whole apartment suddenly felt unbearably empty. How had they managed to live for weeks without making any attempt at some form of decoration? Did it mean that they both had difficulty putting down roots after so many years of wandering? Shepard had never wanted a home. Now that she had one, she realised she did not know what to do to make it feel more welcoming.

Shepard's mind jumped to any number of possibilities - pictures on the walls; a rug to liven up the swathes of tan-coloured carpet. Anything to take her mind of the conversation that she knew she was supposed to be having. It was the art of procrastination at its very finest.

Throughout, Liara simply sat at her side - a stoic presence in the midst of her own turmoil. The pressure of the hand on her thigh did not change, nor did she speak in an effort to prod reluctant words from her lips. Shepard lost herself to the clock she imagined on the wall. It slowly ticked away the minutes as she sat, unable to talk. Tick, tick, tick.

Eventually the realisation struck her. Each minute lost was a minute less she had to spend with Liara. Of course her bondmate was sitting with her throughout that time, but the tension ruined any pleasure she might have derived from being in her presence. This was a form of torture where the power lay entirely with the tortured. A ragged sigh escaped her lips. In response, Liara reached out and gently unlaced the tightly clenched hands in her lap. With the sudden release, Shepard was at least able to open her mouth. The words still took time to emerge.

"I…can't stop thinking about Alberta," Shepard admitted in a small voice. She also couldn't stop thinking about her pink clothes, but that was a distraction. "I want to forget, but that place…those people. I have never felt so helpless…so humiliated." As the first words left her lips, she realised that she had not sat down and explained her experiences in the facility. Liara had probably caught glimpses of the hell, but the actual reality had been deliberately kept from her. "For much of the time I was kept like a deranged criminal. In a white room, strapped to a bed, wearing nothing other than a paper gown…sometimes not even that." Her voice almost broke when she recalled standing naked in the shower in front of Stone, still under the impression that the woman was helping her. She recalled as well the callous manner in which Heller had removed her catheter, showering her in her own urine. He was supposed to have been her ally. Shepard suppressed a shiver. "There are times when I try to understand their hatred but I can't think of anything I did to deserve that. Instead I ask myself whether they saw something different in me, something I can't see myself. Some sort of monster."

"It's buried though. The only time I feel as if that monster might emerge is when I'm alone with you," Shepard continued. "If I lose control and let myself give into my desire, I'll devour you. There's no coming back from that."

Liara reached out and caressed the side of her face. When it was clear that Shepard had finished talking, she responded in a firm but gentle voice. "You do not understand. I want you to devour me. I have never felt safer than when I am helpless in your arms. Evan, please look at me." Liara applied pressure with her hand, turning Shepard to face her. The soldier's bright blue eyes were shining with unshed tears. "You are no monster. I trust you…implicitly."

Shepard shook her head. "You shouldn't, not now. I'm scared I can't separate reality from my nightmares. That nightmare that Stone created? It did happen. In my mind. I'm worried it could happen again. If I stay in control, I can keep it in check."

Liara surged forward suddenly. In a series of smooth motions she rucked her dress up around her upper thighs and swung one leg over Shepard. Straddling her bondmate, Liara used both hands on her chest to press her backwards. Trapped beneath Liara's body, Shepard felt a swell of panic threatening to engulf her. She fought for calm as her heart continued to pound.

"Liara-"

"Then let me take control," Liara urged fervently. She lowered her lips to Shepard's neck. The response to the first touch was immediate - a low, tremulous moan. When she drew away, she saw Shepard physically swallow in an effort to quench her fears. Liara knew that her control had to be absolute, or Shepard would panic and withdraw into herself – much as she had when faced with the Thresher Maw on Tuchanka. Her tactics had worked against that particular monster. She prayed that they would work again here.

"Let you? How?" Shepard protested. She could feel her body's stirring reactions already as Liara ground forward on her lap. Her own hands were poised just inches from grasping a firm hold on those sensuous hips. "Li, I don't think this is a good idea. You shouldn't let me-"

"Shut up, Evan. I am not letting you do anything," Liara whispered as she stroked Shepard's cheeks with a multitude of feathery touches. "You have talked, I have listened...and my heart breaks for you. However now you need to watch. Watch and do nothing."

It was all Shepard could do to watch as Liara's hands went to the hem of her dress. Any further protest was brutally silenced as the dress was dragged upwards. Smooth folds of material slid upwards over Liara's soft, pebbly skin. The rasp of material against skin was the only sound as Shepard held her breath. Inch by inch the asari bared her body. Close proximity made staring unavoidable. Shepard's gaze hungrily moved from her thighs to the dappled mound between her legs, from the flat planes of her stomach to the lavish curves of her tits. Liara's head emerged from the dress. Her eyes were luminous and her tiny smile spoke volumes.

Shepard did not even notice the dress float to the floor. Her stilted breath finally emerged in an urgent exhale. For someone who had starved themselves for so long, the banquet was overwhelming. Her hands twitched at her side. She didn't know where to place them. However Liara scooped both up before she could make a move. They were swept up and over her head. Liara's fingers grasped the hem of her t-shirt. As she dragged it upwards, deft fingers played havoc on her skin, leaving goose flesh in their wake. The garment was then deliberately abandoned, left wrapped around her raised arms, as Liara moved onto her bra. Unfastened, it was roughly tugged only high enough to free Shepard's breasts for Liara's eager touch.

The asari stroked their smooth surface, taking the time to reacquaint herself with the way each fit comfortably in her palm. As she played her thumbs across the nipples, she watched Shepard's expression. Only when the last of the panic disappeared did she bend to take one of the parcels of flesh into her mouth. Although Shepard's needs were her focus, her own bubbled to the surface in the form of a throaty moan. She could not contain her delight, grinning madly as she suckled. Her tongue's ministrations soon drew an answering moan from Shepard. Emboldened, she concentrated her efforts against the tender bud at the tip. She teased it mercilessly with her tongue and teeth, nipping forcefully enough to elicit a sharp cry. The same assault was repeated on the second breast, although this time her hand continued to work on the first. When Shepard tried to stroke her crest, Liara bit her nipple again, harder. Only one of them could be in control, and Liara was determined that it remain her.

Eventually Liara lowered her hands to work at Shepard's belt. Her urgency was hampered by the frustrating tremor that gripped her hands. Scared that her eagerness would undo her composure, Liara forced herself to face each movement one at a time. The belt buckle finally slipped free. Buttons followed - each one providing little resistance beneath her increasingly nimble fingers. A thrill coursed through her body as she hooked her thumbs beneath the bands of Shepard's cargos. Sliding down in between her legs, she drew both the trousers and her underwear down. She glanced up at her bondmate, revelling in the half-lidded expression of pleasure on her face.

Before she turned her attention elsewhere, Liara placed one knee between Shepard's legs, driving it forward at the precise moment she claimed her lips. She felt both the resulting inhale and the heat rising from Shepard's core. The kiss was at times measured and cautious, at others wild and grating. Of all the kisses they had shared since their reunion, it was by far the sweetest because of the potential it held.

Shepard's hands remained trapped behind her head in her t-shirt. She protested with a slight whimper when she lost the contact with Liara's lips. It was short-lived however as her stunning bondmate lowered her body downward until she was kneeling between her spread thighs. In that moment Shepard tried to drink everything in. The almost licentious manner in which she was sprawled on the sofa, hands hooked behind her head, tits heaving with each gasping breath, legs wide apart. Her hips were already moving of their own accord, making involuntary upward thrusts in anticipation of what was to come. When Liara pressed warm lips to the inside of her thigh she felt a shiver pass from her head to her toes. All sensations converged in her core. Shepard bit her lip as the asari teased her wantonly with her tongue – her thighs, the top of her sex, and eventually her outer lips. She was soaking wet even before Liara daggered her tongue between her folds. The resulting sharp cry drowned out Liara's own murmur of pleasure upon rediscovering the taste of arousal.

Several languorous strokes had already teased her throbbing clit before it became the focus of attention. Liara ravished the taut bundle with her unrelentingly firm tongue. Shepard realised that the prior release she had given herself had only ever been temporary. Furtive self-gratification could never compare to that granted by a lover. With each stroke of her tongue and dip of her head, Shepard could feel more than just her bondmate's touch. Every act was performed with such eagerness, such delight. _Love_.

The control that Shepard had fought to maintain for so long had well and truly been relinquished. The soft mewling noises emerging from her throat may as well have belonged to someone else. She felt another surge of pleasure when she became aware of the tip of Liara's finger teasing at her entrance.

"Fuck!" Although her intention had not been to cheapen the act with words, the cry emerged as Liara tenderly but powerfully drove one finger deep inside. She didn't anticipate how tight she would be. The walls of her cunt gripped to the single finger as it filled her to satisfaction. Liara felt it, responded by keeping her thrusts firm but slow.

Shepard's hips bucked against Liara's face. Now they drove against her hand as well. She was close. She had been close before Liara's tongue had even touched her clit. There was no meld, no biotics, just raw, unadulterated passion and longing. In those last few moments Shepard let everything go - her voice, her gasping breaths, the jerky, desperate motions of her body.

Liara sensed that Shepard was close to orgasm. In those final moments she placed her free hand on one of Shepard's hips. The hand worked in time with each thrust, encouraging her bondmate, speeding her on. The unbridled cry left Shepard's lips at the same time she felt sensitive flesh spasm beneath her own lips. It was a complete loss of control on all levels. Shepard's voice was lost to a series of sharp cries and involuntarily expletives. The walls of her cunt contracted around Liara's finger. Her hips surged upwards, violently at first before subsiding into a series of intermittent thrusts. Only when Shepard pleaded with her to stop, utterly spent, did Liara cease her attentions.

She remained close to Shepard's core for several minutes, drinking in the warmth and the sweet smell of her climax, revelling in the sensation of being inside her. On the sofa above, her soldier had collapsed heavily against the couch. Only now was her breathing coming under control. Liara tugged on her finger. It came free, her palm glistening in the same manner that her chin probably was. Her body protested slightly as she rose from her position on the floor. At no point had she noticed that her knees were sore from kneeling or her left foot had gone to sleep. She managed a less than graceful fall onto the sofa, rewarded when Shepard mashed their lips together, tasting herself in the process. In the aftermath, the kiss was a lazy mess of slowly moving lips and probing tongues. Liara finally freed Shepard's hands from the confines of her t-shirt, tossing it to one side. Shepard then shrugged out of her own bra before finally taking the opportunity to wrap her arms around Liara's body. Although Liara did not want to get ahead of herself, she was already anticipating being on the receiving end of Shepard's touch. In that moment however, she was more than content with the embrace.

"Hey you," Shepard whispered. Her voice sounded raw and scratchy.

Liara was hardly surprised. Her soldier had been unusually vocal. "Evan." Her lips curved into yet another smile. This one grew exponentially.

Shepard pressed her moist lips against Liara's neck and inhaled deeply at the same time. "Damn, you smell good."

"As opposed to the foul way I usually smell?" Liara asked playfully.

An authentic laugh burst from Shepard's lips. "Yeah." She inhaled again. "Absolutely foul. Are you sure you're not one hundred percent Krogan?"

"You can feel free to test that theory," Liara challenged. "Although I already know which one of us would win a head-butting contest." Liara pressed her lips to Shepard's forehead. "And you have such a lovely face, I would hate for anything to happen to it."

Liara drew back so she could enjoy the mirth visible in her bondmate's eyes. She smoothed Shepard's sweaty hair back, letting her fingers luxuriate in the long strands. Her cheeks were beginning to ache with the strain of the permanent smile she wore. In that moment, everything was perfect. Her Shepard was back. They were strong together. Strong enough to conquer the Galaxy on a whim.

"I love your face," Liara eventually whispered.

Shepard's cheeks warmed in response - flushed with pleasure, embarrassment, and joy. She then wrapped her arms around Liara's torso and drew her down. The asari folded her body against Shepard's and laid her head on her chest, tucking her knees in close. "Thank you, Liara."

Liara nuzzled her cheek contentedly against Shepard's warm, salt-encrusted skin. A gentle, warm sigh escaped her lips. "You do not need to thank me, Evan. This is how it should be. How it was always supposed to be."


	25. Queen Takes Pawn

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

_[Agent309: Internal Alliance reports confirm that humanity's departure from the Council is imminent. Kessler will deliver a simultaneous QEC broadcast within a matter of hours. Awaiting further instruction.]_

Liara let out the breath she had been holding as she read the message through a second time. The additional information that she desperately wanted never materialised. She was left to read into the scant words all the turmoil that they heralded. The signs had been evident for weeks, months really, but for humanity's cession from the Council to be laid out in stark facts in front of her was an entirely different matter.

Liara was surprised to have an immediate emotional reaction to the news. Her affiliation with the Alliance had only ever been tenuous at best, the human government even less so, but she had fought and bled alongside humans throughout the Reaper War. Her relationship with Shepard would ensure that she would remain tied to humanity, regardless of the coming events.

In terms of her own race, Liara felt nothing other than a disconnection and a vague sense of guilt. She had done what she could for the asari but internal politics and millennia of ingrained conventions were difficult to influence. There had been an invitation from Tevos to return to Thessia to a position of responsibility, but it was one that she did not feel she could accept. In the eyes of her people she had done nothing to earn such a position. The T'Soni estate would remain abandoned, falling into disrepair, for the foreseeable future.

Thoughts continued to race through her mind even as she tried to concentrate on forming the Shadow Broker's response. Above everything, her chief concern was to actively work to prevent another war. She lost all sense of time as she frantically worked to put responses in place before the news was broadcast, before it could filter out around the Galaxy. Liara could only hope that there would not be a destructive chain reaction amongst the remaining Council races.

Only when her head felt as though it would split apart, did Liara stop her work. She left the feeds cycling through announcements from information agencies throughout the galaxy and went to find one person that she knew would be entirely uninformed.

Oddly enough she found Shepard sitting on the floor in front of the door, tugging her boots on. Her bondmate glanced up at the sound of approaching footsteps and flashed the entirely unconcerned grin that Liara had anticipated. Since arriving on Omega, Shepard had gone out of her way to avoid hearing about the outside world. In many ways Liara envied her bondmate.

"Just on my way out. I told Myke I'd help out at Prax's clinic for a few hours. There's been an outbreak of simian bacterial flu in the market district." She looked up in time to catch the immediate panicked expression on Liara's face. "Don't look so worried, I've already had it so I'm immune."

"You did? When?" Liara asked as she crossed to Shepard's side. Without being asked she hunkered down and took over fastening up Shepard's boots with quick, practised movements.

"During a visit to London, about six years ago," Shepard admitted. "I was fresh off a six-month tour in the Traverse and looking forward to seeing the sights. Spent the whole time with my head in the toilet or my arse-"

"You don't need to finish that sentence!" Liara interrupted with a wince.

Her mild irritation passed as soon as she caught a glimpse of the laughter in Shepard's eyes. For a few moments Liara completely forgot what was happening on Earth. She lost herself in the expression on her bondmate's face. Although there had not yet been a follow up to their love-making of the previous day, they had spent a contented night wrapped in each other's arms. Only the urgent report pinging through to her omni tool had prevented a morning of wanton indulgence. Liara suddenly found herself cursing the Alliance and the outbreak of simian bacterial flu in one thought.

"Can I have my boot back, Li?" Shepard asked in a soft voice.

"Oh," Liara murmured, only just realising that she had paused in the midst of her task. She strapped the last boot securely and patted Shepard on the knee. "Good to go."

Shepard cocked her head to one side. "You seem kind of distracted. Is there something on your mind?"

Liara shook her head. She could already predict Shepard's heated anger in response to the announcement, but knew that it would be unproductive at best and a hindrance at worst. She decided to let her bondmate have her fun cleaning up the bodily expulsions of those infected. Politics could come later.

"No, although I would like to speak with you when you return if possible," Liara suggested, hoping that her concern did not manifest too blatantly in her voice.

Shepard swooped without warning. She gathered Liara in her arms and drew her down onto the floor. Liara could not stop the undignified yelp that emerged from her lips. However it was silenced a second later by the kiss that followed. It was impossible to protest further or do anything other than respond with equal enthusiasm. She eventually ended up on her back as Shepard straddled her.

"That has to be the politest invitation I've ever had," Shepard commented. Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "If you want me to fuck you, all you have to do is ask."

The soldier's tone was so deliciously rapacious that Liara almost forgot the real reason behind her request. She lost herself again in the simple sight of Shepard, as relaxed and happy as she had ever known her. It was almost like falling in love all over again.

"I would like that very much." Liara nodded and earned herself a delighted smile.

"Always so damn polite, T'Soni," Shepard replied. She eased herself up into a crouch before helping Liara up. They stood in tandem, but remained in each other's arms. Shepard tucked her chin into the crook of Liara's neck. "I love this," she whispered in an excited voice. "Is it wrong to be so happy?"

"No one deserves it more," Liara replied emphatically. The Galaxy may have been on the verge of falling to pieces, but she desperately wanted Shepard to have these few moments. She held Shepard at arm's length. "Although if you come back vomiting, then you are very much on your own."

"C'mon, I'm adorable when I'm sick," Shepard protested.

Liara frowned. "Based on all those times you frequented the Normandy's medbay, I am sure that you are not."

Shepard pouted for a moment. "I'd invite you to come, but it's not exactly a fun outing."

"As much as I admire your civic spirit, I have work-"

"I got that, Li. I'll call if I'm going to be late."

Shepard deposited a lightning fast kiss on her lips before making her exit. Liara wanted only until the door slid back into pace before heading back to her office. She took the stairs two at a time in her haste.

* * *

 

The familiar smell of disinfectant and anaesthetic assaulted Shepard's sense of smell when she entered Prax's clinic. This time however it was almost overwhelmed by the nauseating stench of vomit and shit. Shepard narrowly avoided adding to the aroma herself as she fought to keep her stomach contents down. The clinic's tiny waiting room was heaving with what appeared to be Omega's entire population of humans. There was no sign of Myke.

A female turian moved amongst the patients, methodically checking symptoms and handing out small bottles of fluid. She spied Shepard and her face twisted into an angry snarl. "You want to get sick too, human?"

"I'm here to help, Prax is expecting me," Shepard replied.

The Turian grunted in surprise. She stared at Shepard with her unreadable expression for several moments before she jerked her head in the direction of the back room. Shepard apologetically pushed her way through the throng to find a harassed looking Prax in the midst of administering an injection to a skinny, scared human boy who was whimpering softly.

Prax gave her a cursory glance when she rapped her knuckles on the door frame to alert him to her presence. He grunted irritably. "Took your sweet time. Where's the asari?"

"Myke isn't here yet?" Shepard frowned. "I haven't seen her. We were supposed to meet here."

"Okay, okay, spare me the whole damn life-story," Prax snapped. "Get over here and hold this kid down."

Shepard was no stranger to battlefield wounds, but by some fate she had been spared being a direct witness to children in pain. The boy was ten at the most. He was desperately trying to hold back the tears as Prax smeared a tiny dose of medi-gel around a lozenge shaped pustule on his stomach. The grotesque protrusion was almost as big as Shepard's fist and filled with mustard coloured pus. Shepard definitely did not remember having such symptoms during her own bout of the flu.

"Shouldn't I wash my hands or something?" Shepard protested.

He gave her a deadpan glare in response as if to ask if she was serious. Apparently the smells of disinfectant were purely for show. The kid's skin was clammy and hot to the touch as she leaned in to place her hands on his shoulders. Shepard remembered that symptom well.

"One of the worst cases I've seen. Should never have got this bad," he growled angrily as he lowered a scalpel towards the boy's stomach. "By the spirits, hold on tight, human."

Although Shepard's first instinct was to ask why the hell he was doing something as painful as lancing the pustule, she thought better of questioning Prax in front of his patient. She knew that the meagre application of medi-gel had only been enough to dull the pain. Instead she focused on the struggling boy's face, keeping her eyes locked with his. As well as possessing a pallor that was only a few shades from being pure white, his hair was blond and his eyes could barely be considered grey. Tears mingled with the sweat coating his cheeks.

"Hey, kiddo, what's your name?" she asked.

"Yuri," he hissed through gritted teeth.

Shepard had little experience with children. Her memories of being one herself were of little use. Hannah Shepard had favoured a decidedly 'hands off' approach to child rearing. Affection had always been sparse, if not absent entirely. She instinctively reached out toward the boy, but hesitated before she smoothed a lank clump of hair out of his eyes.

"Um…nice to meet you, Yuri, I'm Evan," Shepard replied, unable to shake the feeling that she sounded condescending and stupid. She felt his body shudder beneath her grip. Judging from the almost inaudible, vile sounds she was hearing, Prax had started cutting. She could not bring herself to look.

"Evan's...a boy's name," Yuri eventually scoffed quietly.

"Who says it has to be?" Shepard pointed out. "Besides, if your mother called you Evangeline you'd want to shorten it too."

The kid obviously wanted to laugh, but managed only a pained grimace. "Yeah...I would."

"Where are your parents?" Shepard made the mistake of looking down. Prax was just removing a small bowl filled with a thick mucus.

"Dunno," was Yuri's unconcerned reply. "They both buggered off when I was a lil'un. Only got an older brother. He works all hours on the docks. He's trying to save enough to buy us a way out of here." His breathing came a little easier now that Prax had finished, but sweat drenched his pale body. His pale grey eyes regarded her with a sudden curiosity. "You don't look like you belong on Omega. Why are you here?"

"There are people looking for me," Shepard replied honestly. "Omega is a good hiding place."

Yuri demonstrated his Omegan heritage when he accepted her explanation without further questioning. Omega was a good place for hiding, and a hell of a lot of people used it as such. "I wanna go somewhere where they have trees. Ever seen a real tree?"

Shepard smiled. "Yeah, a fair few. They're-" she searched for some enthusiasm "-nice and green I suppose."

His eyes were half-lidded. "I read that people can climb 'em. Did you ever? Climb one I mean?"

She shook her head, smoothed his forehead again as he grew drowsy. "I grew up in space, on ships and stations. There were always these tiny little things dotted around the plazas but you were only allowed to look at them. Someone probably would have locked you up if you tried to climb one." Shepard had to admit that the thought had never occurred to her. By the time she came to spending any decent amount of time groundside, she had been too old to consider climbing a tree for fun.

"Hey, we're done here," Prax interrupted her conversation. "Unless you wanna stand around and talk about trees some more? Myke still hasn't shown though, so I'd prefer you hauled your ass."

Shepard responded with a curt nod. She briefly turned her attention back to Yuri. By now his eyes were fully closed and his lips were parted open to allow for the deep breaths of sleep. The wound on his stomach had been dressed. Raised goose flesh dotted his pale skin. Without a word, she stripped off her jacket and gently laid it atop him. Yuri didn't stir and she turned to follow Prax.

There was the brief thought of pinging Myke's omni-tool, but it was lost as soon as she was swamped with demands for help.

* * *

 

**Mindoir, Attican traverse**

Miranda Lawson absently trailed a hand along her naked flank. It was pointless for her to admire her already perfect proportions but she wanted to present an inviting image. She lifted one knee and spread her legs slightly. Her touch moved to the inside of her thigh. The pads of her fingers caused a faint tingle as they passed, but her own touch was a pale comparison to that of her lover's.

A few moments later she exhaled a short, impatient burst of air. Miranda rolled over, ruining her carefully arranged pose. She turned to face the open door on the other side of the bed. From her reclining position all she could see was a shadow moving.

"How much longer are you planning on keeping a naked woman waiting in your bed?" Frustration crept into her tone. The combination of anticipation and her own wandering hands meant that she was already painfully aroused. "Any longer and I'm starting without you."

"This is ridiculous, M," was the irritated reply. There was a pause. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

Miranda shook her head softly in amusement. "Come here and I'll show you."

Ashley emerged from the bathroom a few moments later. Miranda's gaze flickered from the sheepish expression her lover wore on her face to what she was wearing below her waist. Subconsciously she found herself licking her lips as she studied the cock jutting out from Ash's body. It was thick and long. Miranda could anticipate it filling her completely. Thin leather straps would keep the dildo snugly in place as Ash fucked her. Despite the marine's embarrassment, Miranda found the sight of her lover strapped up and the accompanying anticipation a huge turn on. Her core pulsed impatiently.

"You look good, Williams," she murmured.

"Honestly?" Ash asked uncertainly. She reached down and grasped the cock as though measuring its girth for the first time. "What if I'm crap?"

Miranda was honestly just enjoying the sight of Ashley touching herself. It was difficult for her to think clearly or say anything that wasn't fervent encouragement. "It'll come to you."

"But how should I…what position…" Ash winced as she struggled for the right words. "I don't know how this works-" Her cheeks flooded with colour. "I mean, I know how this works of course, but not from this end."

"There's absolutely no need to make things complicated," Miranda said softly. She sat up and held out her hand. "Come here."

Her lover crossed the short distance to the bed. The cock swayed invitingly as she walked. By the time Ashley knelt on the bed and reached for her hand, Miranda was having difficulty restraining herself. Every instinct was screaming at her to yank the marine toward her in a lustful frenzy. Instead she forced herself to do everything at half speed. She caressed Ash's hand with the pad of her thumb. Ash moved forward on her knees until she was positioned between Miranda's thighs. Miranda drew her down for a heated kiss to which the other woman responded eagerly, forgetting her earlier embarrassment. Whilst their lips danced, Miranda wrapped a fist around Ashley's shaft, stroking the cock as though it were real.

Ashley drew back so she could watch. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "You know, that's kind of hot."

Miranda grinned as she placed her hands on Ashley's hips and tugged her down. The brunette let out a yelp as she flopped forward, only just managing to place her hands out in time to catch herself. She found herself poised above Miranda with the cock nestled at the apex of her legs. Miranda could feel its hardness pressed against her. Her hips undulated wantonly as she created some of the friction she craved.

She'd waited long enough. "Fuck me…please."

"Are you sure you're ready?" Ash whispered hesitantly.

"Trust me," Miranda replied in a husky voice. She propped herself up so she could reach down and to guide Ash's cock toward her eager opening. A delighted hum escaped her throat as she felt the bulbous tip press against her. Emboldened, Ash gently thrust her hips forward. "Perfect, Ash," she murmured as the cock slowly began to fill her. "Just perfect. Now… _more_."

A relentless, impatient hammering suddenly and cruelly ripped Miranda out of her haze of pleasure. Despite the lingering vestiges of arousal, the glorious images in her mind and an overall contended feeling of warmth, she knew that she was in her quarters on Mindoir. Her response was to plunge her head beneath the pillow in an effort to block the sound out. Miranda rarely lingered in bed, but it was imperative that she somehow returned to that particular dream, at that precise moment. However the pounding merely increased in tempo, making returning to sleep impossible.

The expression on her face was apoplectic when she opened the door to find Private Parker with his hand raised in the process of knocking again. His usually swarthy features blanched instantly when he saw the expression on her face.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger!" Parker pre-empted any potential violence by holding up his hands in surrender. "Or throw one of your little balls at me, whatever you biotics do to people who piss you off."

Parker's wandering gaze reminded Miranda that she was clad in just a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Thankfully the intensification of her glare drove him to look at his feet instead. "If you get to the point I might think about not tearing you apart with a warp field."

"There's a broadcast from Fleet Admiral Kessler in a few minutes. Scuttlebutt is saying it's something big, I thought you might want to hear it first-hand." Parker met her stare with a quick, hopeful glance. "Or are you still really pissed?"

"I'm still really pissed, Parker," Miranda replied, making a concerted effort to sound less angry. "But thank you. I'll be there."

Parker nodded. He paused before leaving. "I interrupted a good dream didn't I?"

"Bugger off, Parker!" Miranda's anger flooded back in an instant. She slammed the door in the Private's face to hide the potential hues of embarrassment that flooded her cheeks. She did not even want to contemplate the possibility that Parker had overheard any noises she might have been making in her sleep.

Hastily dressed, Miranda assembled in the mess a few minutes later just as the announcement was beginning. Although she had not had the privilege of meeting Kessler, she had heard from Ash and others that he was a narcissistic asshole. She also guessed as much from the grainy image that appeared on the wall-screen. Despite the fact the room probably held almost fifty marines, the atmosphere was strangely subdued as everyone struggled to hear.

_{My fellow citizens, today marks the next step in humanity's galactic history. In the wake of our glorious, trailblazing forebears, we are about to write the next chapter in our destiny by forging a new path toward greatness-}_

"What shite is this chump spouting?" one marine piped up.

He was quickly hushed, but Miranda could see either derision or confusion on the faces of those around her. She herself had a distinct prickling sensation nagging at the back of her neck. It was an uneasiness brought about by Kessler's choice of language and her own knowledge of the direction of Alliance politics.

_{-for ourselves. As of eleven hundred hours today, humanity will no longer be a part of the Galactic Council. This includes relinquishing our right to a seat on the Council.}_ Fervent applause could clearly be heard on the audio feed. Most of those in the room were merely stunned, whispering amongst their buddies. _{As a consequence, we will no longer be subject to Council rulings, treaties, or sanctions. This is a proactive move on humanity's part with the aim of cutting ourselves free from the Council's apron strings. Too long have we been stifled and subject to the whims of others. The Systems Alliance will stand apart…and we will be strong.}_

Kessler continued to speak, but by that point most of the room had descended into a chaotic stream of voices. Only those intent on hearing every word crowded close to the screen. Miranda had already heard enough. She caught additional comments stressing that the other races were not suddenly to be viewed as enemies. Her responding thoughts were cynical to say the least.

_Sure, they're just no longer friends,_ Miranda thought. Although nothing had changed regarding her belief in the continued advancement of humanity, she had since come to accept that allies were a necessary condition of success and prosperity. Cerberus's all-consuming pursuit of their goal had led to their ruin in fire and flame. Whatever the Alliance's ultimate goal, Miranda suspected that it would end in exactly the same manner. She wouldn't have cared but for the fact that it would take her and everyone she loved down with it.

"Yippee-kay-yay," Jack suddenly spoke up from just behind her shoulder. Her tone was decidedly sarcastic. "Looks like Cerberus won after all."

Incensed, Miranda turned to respond with a curt rebuttal. The Captain was already making her way out of the room. Miranda tried to find a place of calm. Her conversation with Ashley still brought a smile to her face and tears to her eyes. She had to remind herself that she had Jack to thank for it. Her reluctance to willingly converse with the ex-convict meant that she did not catch up to Jack until they were half way across the parade ground.

"Jack…can I have a word?" Miranda hated the submissive tone in her voice.

"I know what you're going to say, Cheerleader," Jack called over her shoulder. "And there's no need, trust me."

"Is it too difficult for you to listen to gratitude?" Miranda was angry that her magnanimity had been thrown back in her face so callously.

Her anger morphed into curiosity as Jack stopped dead in her tracks. She had hit a nerve. When Jack turned, her trademark scowl progressed to another level. While Miranda had no desire for a rematch, she considered it a small victory that Jack was struggling to restrain her temper.

The petite biotic stamped forward dramatically. "I got no one to call, costs me nothing to give away shit I don't give a fuck about. You think I did it 'cos it's you? Most of these grunts have got family some place else – Moms, brothers, casual fucks…hell, Finch calls his fucking dog."

"You had to contact the _Normandy_ to set that call up," Miranda replied calmly. It wasn't her intention to push Jack's buttons, but she derived a perverse sense of pleasure in watching the play of emotions on the Captain's face.

Jack's entire face was pinched and taut, reflecting her internal struggle for control. When her throat worked in a swallowing action, it was her pride she swallowed. "Might've done," she mumbled petulantly.

A triumphant grin creased Miranda's face. However it was wiped almost immediately when she saw Jack's eyes narrow roguishly. _Walk away, Lawson. Walk away very, very quickly._

"Williams, huh?" Miranda did not respond. Jack chuckled as though sharing a private joke with herself. "Have to admit, I'm kinda surprised."

Miranda glared at her nemesis. Part of her knew she would regret taking the bait, but her curiosity beat common-sense into submission. "Why? Do you think me incapable of forming meaningful relationships?"

"Fuck yes, but this has nothing to do with you being a genetically engineered ice queen," Jack replied while Miranda snorted in disgust. "When I met Williams she was the perfect Alliance marine - straight-laced, straight-talking, and she fucking hated Cerberus. So I'm kinda surprised to find that she's bumping uglies with one of their Operatives."

" _Ex_ -Operative," Miranda stressed in a tight voice. "Unlike you, Ashley accepts that I am no longer with Cerberus. It's a non-issue between us."

"Heh, whatever." Jack shrugged dismissively. "Guess you and I won't be indulging in rage-fuelled hate-sex anytime soon."

Miranda blinked. _Did she just say-?_ "I beg your pardon?"

"C'mon, cheerleader. All this tension between us? It's clearly sexual." Miranda continued to stare in bewilderment at the petite biotic. Jack's grin widened. "If Shepard hadn't walked in on us when we were tearing up the sub-decks, we would've eventually got to tearing each other's clothes off."

"What? You're an aggravating little freak!" Miranda snapped. "I would sooner have had sex with Grunt!"

"I think that could've been arranged," Jack replied in a deadpan, unconcerned by Miranda's anger. "Still, all that passion, I've gotta say that Williams is a lucky woman. I hope she appreciates your tits."

"Is this…is this conversation actually happening?" Miranda eventually asked in disbelief. She remained still for a few moments before she finally grew unnerved by remaining in Jack's leering presence. She stabbed her finger in Jack's direction. "Keep your eyes off my fucking chest, Jack or-"

Jack cocked her head to one side. "Or you'll what? Try and use your piss-poor excuse for biotics on me again? C'mon, you telegraph your moves. I've got time to scratch my ass before you throw an attack. I blame it on the bloody asari, thousands of years of swanning around thinking they're the bloody biotic queens. You need to unleash with some fucking conviction. Fight like a dog instead of a fucking cheerleader."

"You honestly think I would take advice from you?" Miranda said as she started walking toward the barracks. Jack followed her like a predator that smelled blood.

"You wanna be friends, Cheerleader? Well that's friendly advice you can take or leave. Suits me if you wanna get your bubbly butt kicked over and over, but I kinda liked Williams and I don't want you to slumming it in this shithole forever either. It's my shithole. I'd rather you were someplace else."

Miranda paused. "I telegraph my moves?"

"Like a fucking cheerleader," Jack agreed.

The Alliance marine folded her arms across her chest. Despite her intellect being a great deal superior to Jack's (whom she regarded as only a few steps above a cretin), she always felt as though she was the one coming off second best in their conversations. She continuously took the bait, sinking to Jack's level and engaging with her in petty, name-calling games. Still, there was a hint of an offer in the ex-convict's comments. The only difficulty lay in the actual asking. It was going to be painful.

"My tutor was an asari, Ikaria Kato. She hated humans." Miranda realised she had not thought of the asari for some time, nor did she know her eventual fate. The thought was brief. There was no point reflecting on the past, especially not in the company of someone who didn't give a fuck. She needed to concentrate on the present and her eventual future with Ashley. Both of those were conditional on the fact that she lived through the post-war turmoil. Miranda reasoned that she needed to learn as many of Jack's dirty tricks as she could – at least the ones involving biotic combat. "I've probably picked up a lifetime of bad habits. I could do with a few pointers."

Jack's answering grin was triumphant. "Why the hell not?"

Miranda knew exactly what the gleam in Jack's eyes meant. "This is not an invitation to spar!"

* * *

 

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2**

It was difficult for Sam Traynor to feel anything other than deflated as she listened to the tail end of Fleet Admiral Kessler's message. Although Sam was no expert in intergalactic politics, she knew that the announcement would not sit well with the remaining Council races. It would also expose humanity to those non-Council races looking to exploit the post-war environment. Whatever the outcome, she suspected the situation would deteriorate, possibly even lead to war. As adept as she was with an assault rifle, Sam had no desire to see further large-scale conflict. She already had enough nightmares to last a lifetime.

"Chief?"

Yeoman Clayton had to speak to her three times before she finally looked up from the console. When she turned to face him she was unable to summon anything other than a bland stare. "I've got your parents via QEC."

Even that announcement failed to stir any excitement. "I'm really busy right now-"

"It'll be the last chance you have to speak with them before entering the Terminus Systems, ma'am," Clayton reminded her. "You want to take this call. Shall I patch it through to your terminal?"

Sam acquiesced. A few moments later the grinning faces of Nick and Radha Traynor appeared on the small screen in front of her. Radha's dark face and black hair bundled into a loose bun took up most of the screen. Nick had been relegated to the back. Sam could see little other than bright eyes and his thin, sandy hair as he stood patiently and allowed his wife prime position in front of their console.

Upon seeing their faces Sam did not know how she could have ever been too busy for them. Both looked a little more like their old selves, their faces had filled out as they put Horizon behind them. However she knew that nothing would take away the additional lines on their faces or grey hairs at their temples.

"Hey, Mum…Dad." Sam even managed to inject some enthusiasm into her voice. Her smile was a little wobbly.

"How's my munchkin?" Nick peered over his wife's shoulder.

"Dad!" She suddenly wished that she had taken the call somewhere more private. However the CIC was largely empty save for Clayton and a few other bridge officers at their stations. Thankfully it appeared as though 'munchkin' appeared to have gone unnoticed. "I'm okay I guess."

"You don't look okay, you look tired," Radha said matter-of-factly, pursing her lips in disapproval as she scrutinised her daughter. "Have you been eating enough?"

"Stop chiding her, she looks fine," Nick added. "You'd tell us if you weren't fine wouldn't you, Sammy?"

_Not in a million years_ , Sam thought, trying to keep her expression neutral. She fought the urge to tell her Dad that 'Sammy' wasn't acceptable either. "You know I would."

"Well I think she looks tired," Radha repeated stubbornly.

_I can't get anything past you, Mum_. "My shift is almost done, then it's a meal and bed," Sam promised. "I'm far more interested in hearing how the two of you are settling into your new house."

"House?" Radha scoffed. "I wouldn't exactly call it a _house_. A shoebox would be a more apt description."

"Our house is fine," Nick added diplomatically. "There's plenty of space for the two of us. Besides, it's not like we have much in the way of possessions. "

"I suppose," was the agreeing reply. Radha's face then brightened. "And we have lovely neighbours. You forgot to mention the neighbours, Nick!"

Nick rolled his eyes. "I hadn't forgotten, it just hasn't come up yet."

Radha nudged him impatiently. "So, it's important. They know Sammy."

Sam sighed. Her parents would probably still be calling her 'Sammy' and 'munchkin' when she was fifty. "They know me? From the news perhaps?" Sam suggested. It was highly unlikely. She had avoided direct interviews. Few people cared about a comms officer, even one that served on the famous _Normandy_. That was exactly the way Sam liked it.

"Nope." Nick shook his head. "Lucy Park, a bona fide war hero herself. She and her wife Susannah live in the house next door."

This time Sam could not keep her expression neutral. Her jaw dropped at the unlikely coincidence. In fact, she was certain that it was not a coincidence. She distinctly remembered the mentions of 'protection' in Ashley's emails. Was Lucy and Susannah's presence part of that? It was difficult for Sam to imagine tiny Lucy Park protecting much of anything, but she trusted the young woman based on their short time together. Still, it did not help to be reminded of their almost romance.

"She speaks very highly of you," Nick continued. He'd managed to push his way forward and gain more of a presence on the screen. "Said you'd saved her life."

"I had nothing to do with it," Sam replied honestly. "She saved herself, we simply picked her up." Those heady moments hovering next to the apex of the Crucible were lodged in her mind. She remembered the heart stopping seconds looking down at the ground hundreds of metres below and the warmth of Park's body pressed against her own.

"You're too modest, munchkin," Nick replied.

Beside him, Radha nodded. Sam squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. While she was grateful for the opportunity to speak with her parents and the fact that they were safe, she wanted to steer the conversation in a different direction.

She cleared her throat. "So-"

"And Susannah's lovely," her mother added with a warm smile.

Nick nodded. "Not to mention handy, knows her way around gadgets she does. Sorted out our wallscreen in a couple of minutes."

_Yes, she's absolutely bloody perfect,_ Sam folded her arms across her chest. If the conversation continued in a similar vein for any longer she knew that she was in danger of slipping out a smart arsed remark. She prepared herself for the inevitable comments to follow about finding herself a nice girl like Susannah.

"You are looking after yourself aren't you?" Radha suddenly asked. "Your father and I worry about you."

Sam paused at the unexpected direction of the conversation. She had expected the 'girlfriend talk', instead her parents were both peering at the screen with matching expressions of concern. Knowing that the _Normandy_ was headed toward the Terminus and not being able to tell her parents was painful but probably for the best.

"I'm fine, seriously," Sam said with a smile. "There's no finer crew in the Galaxy and certainly no finer Captain."

"Ashley Williams was very impressive in person," Nick said.

"Indeed," Radha agreed.

"And slightly intimidating," Nick added with a grin.

"Agreed." Sam and her mother replied in unison.

The three of them shared a quiet laugh. As it faded, Sam suddenly felt very alone despite the fact that her parents were on the screen right in front of her. She checked the time on her chrono. There were still a few minutes remaining yet.

"Do you have a board set up, Dad?"

"You know me, munchkin, always."

"Can you handle a few moves? I'll go easy on you I promise."

"Don't go easy on your old man, Sam. I'm certainly not going to go easy on you."

Radha rolled her eyes. "You two are as bad as each other!"

* * *

 

Captain Ashley Williams could not look Tevos in the eye when the form of the Asari Councillor appeared in _Normandy's_ QEC hub. A myriad of emotions coursed through her body, chief amongst them were anger and frustration. It was all she could do to stifle these and keep them from spilling into her entire demeanour.

As of 1800 hours, a little less than thirty minutes earlier, Ashley's entire, ordered world had been thrown on its head by the announcement that humanity had left the Council. The thought even crossed her mind that she could be committing treason simply by the act of talking to Tevos.

Humanity's move had massive potential repercussions for their race as a whole, but for Ash it hit on a far more personal level. Unlike Shepard's milestone appointment as first human SpecTRe, her own had come with no fanfare. Udina's recommendation and the Council's approval had been matter-of-fact and utilitarian to the point where Ashley had often asked herself whether she had earned the position on her own merits. The thought that she had simply been in the right place at the right time had often crossed her mind. It was a thought that lingered longer of late. Whereas Shepard had been an N7, famous as the sole survivor of the Akuze massacre, Ash was simply a solider. She considered herself good at her job, nothing more.

As she smouldered beneath Tevos's gaze, she came to the foregone conclusion that she would be the second and last human SpecTRe. Ash had thought that she would feel a sense of relief at being relieved of the rank, instead she felt only regret that she had not done more.

"Greetings Commander Williams," Tevos eventually said. "It is a regrettable state of affairs in which we find ourselves."

" _Captain_ Williams," Ashley corrected in a terse voice. The rank was unmerited but she felt compelled to maintain the charade, if only to spite Kessler.

"Congratulations on the promotion, Captain. Much deserved I'm sure," Tevos replied. "I would inquire as to the general mood aboard the _Normandy_ , but I suspect that you and your crew are still reeling from the announcement."

"We are. Spare me the pleasantries, I'm not in the mood." Ashley finally lifted her head. She caught a trace of indignation in Tevos's expression, no doubt reacting to the blatant disrespect in her own tone. "The Council doesn't indulge in social calls, cut to the point."

"Your hostility is misplaced-" Tevos began.

"Don't lecture me on hostility, I've got more than enough to go around," Ashley snapped. "Just revoke my SpecTRe status and be done with it."

Tevos's resulting surprise was obvious. "Contrary to your expectation, the purpose of this communication is not to revoke your status, SpecTRe Williams. There is no reason that humanity's departure from the Council would have an effect on your position. Only a SpecTRe's own actions can see their appointment revoked."

Ashley felt like a fool for behaving like a hothead in front of the serene Councillor. In response she squared her shoulders in an attempt to look more like a soldier and less like a petulant child about to throw her toys.

"My apologies, ma'am," Ashley began. "The last hour has been…difficult. I think the expectation from the Alliance is that I will no longer serve the Council. They expect me to resign. I guess I was waiting for you to make that decision for me."

"Resignations amongst the SpecTRes are extremely rare, but not unheard of," Tevos said. "Is that your wish, Captain Williams - to resign?"

"No." Ashley surprised herself by replying without hesitation. "More than anything the Alliance's latest dumbass move has convinced me that I need to do more. I will not resign, regardless of any future orders. This may cause complications, especially with regards to my use of the _Normandy_ and her crew, but I'll face those when I have to. In the meantime, I remain focused on the mission at hand."

Tevos's lips curled into an almost imperceptible smile before she continued. "I was hoping that would be your decision. I'm transmitting the coordinates for the _Normandy's_ rendezvous with an asari frigate. I was hoping to be able to spare another ship or that the Turians would join us, but for the time being the _Normandy_ and the _Pserimos_ will be acting alone."

Ashley nodded. "Understood. The _Normandy_ is used to operating alone so I'm grateful for any back-up."

"One of our finest young officers commands the _Pserimos_ , Commander Kurin, I think the two of you will work well together. Remember, Captain, these initial stages are reconnaissance only. Depending on what you find, you will still have the support of Council Fleets. Whilst under your command, we regard the _Normandy_ as a SpecTRe vessel."

_That'll make Kessler's day if he ever found out_. Ashley opted not to give voice to that sentiment. It now felt as though she had usurped complete command of the _Normandy_. Despite the general leeway give to frigate captains, Ashley knew that there was no precedence for her situation. As a Council SpecTRe she was following the Council's orders, in an Alliance vessel with an Alliance crew. The disciplined Alliance marine in Ashley told her to turn the ship around and participate in the fly past on Elysium. However the cynic who had reluctantly involved herself with galactic politics clearly said 'fuck the fly past.'

"I'm looking forward to the challenge, ma'am."

Tevos titled her head to one side and studied Ashley with interest. "This isn't the military, Williams, Tevos is fine."

Ashley replied with a non-committal nod. The imposing Councillor would remain 'ma'am' for the immediate future. "The Alliance's actions are…regrettable," Ashley said. She fervently wished that she could think of something more intelligent to contribute. As it was, her vocalisations were tame compared to what she really wanted to say. Somehow telling the Asari Councillor that the Alliance was being run by a bunch of donkey-dicks didn't feel quite right.

Tevos nodded sagely. "Indeed. The portents have been present for months, but I could not help but feel an element of surprise upon hearing the news. I will not idly speculate as to the future Captain Williams, but I can warn you that the Alliance's future direction may cause difficulties for us all. You in particular. Your divided loyalties may be called into question."

Although Ashley did not want to be singled out for special treatment, she could not deny Tevos's truth. A small sigh escaped her lips. "I keep telling myself that I'm just doing my job," she admitted. "But lately I know that it won't be enough. I'm in a position where I can do something and I intend to…regardless of the consequences." Ashley was clearly coming down on the side of 'fuck the fly past.'

"Captain…" Tevos began uncertainly. "If you do find your…position compromised, please understand that you and the crew of the _Normandy_ will find safe harbour on Thessia."

"I'm very grateful, but I don't think it has come to that yet," Ashley replied, not quite ready to envision spending the rest of her life surrounded by asari. "We'll rendezvous with Commander Kurin and the _Pserimos_ in two days."

Tevos nodded. "Happy hunting, Captain."

When Councillor Tevos's image disappeared, Ashley was once again free to sag against the console as the weight of her responsibilities descended on her shoulders. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she had effectively stolen the _Normandy from under the Alliance's nose. Regardless of whether her mission in the Terminus Systems succeeded, there was the very real possibility that there would be consequences to face when she returned. She just hoped that Miranda was making some effort to toe the company line on Mindoir. However, knowing the Australian as well as she did, Ashley suspected that she would not._

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

On Omega, violence was a constant neighbour to all. However in her years on the streets Mycea Kasos had only ever encountered its aftermath. Smelt its stench in a corpse tossed casually into a back alley, swiftly rotting in the heat. Seen its impact on the faces of the vendors and mercs she saw daily - black eyes, broken limbs or worse. She noticed the absence of those who simply disappeared, just as swiftly forgotten. Even her most intimate contact was with those she found hunched in pain. With supplies cadged from Prax, she inexpertly tended their wounds.

Myke lived a charmed life in comparison to those poor souls. Being caught by a stray shot was the first time that violence had impacted directly on her life. Even then adrenaline ensured that it hurt far less than it ought to.

Now that same wound was almost causing her to cry out in agony – _almost_. Myke refused to give her captors the pleasure of hearing her cry out. Not that she knew who they were.

She'd overslept that morning. The luxury of a proper bed and the security of her own apartment made her uncharacteristically lazy. She remembered waking and stretching out all four limbs, grinning with delight when she could not reach the edges of the bed. Anxiety had taken hold almost as soon as she saw the time. Worried that Shepard was already waiting for her at Prax's clinic, Myke had dashed through the markets in a careless manner. She had been too surprised to even cry out when they jumped her. Something dark and cloying was dragged over her head before she could see their faces, or even how many there were. Her efforts to fight back, kicking out with her feet and clawing with her nails, had earned only laughter and a solid thump with something hard. Whilst dazed, she felt herself be picked up and swung over someone's shoulder like a sack. Warm blood trickled over her forehead and in the crevices between her crests.

Half a dozen thoughts were running through her mind as she was carried – none of which had the potential for a happy ending. Slavers sometimes obtained goods on Omega. Although Aria frowned on the practice, 'dissuaded' those she caught, her people couldn't be everywhere at once. Myke had absolutely no doubt as to what would happen to her if she had been snatched by slavers. She was furious at herself when she felt her eyes burn with fearful tears. It required an intense effort to stifle them, but she focused on the fact that she wasn't some street rat that could be taken without anyone noticing. Shepard would care. Shepard would come looking for her. The ex-marine would do to the slavers exactly what she did to Aria's mercs several days earlier, only with more blood. Myke consoled herself with that thought.

The young asari was feeling particularly sorry for herself by the time she was ungraciously dumped onto an unyielding floor. Throughout the ordeal she had refused to cry out, but she couldn't suppress a yelp as she hit the ground hard. The cut on her forehead was still bleeding, she could now feel it trickling down into her right eye.

She felt a hand on her head. Someone grasped the fabric and tugged. Light flooded her eyes and she could see nothing at first except an endless white.

"Do you half-witted fucks not understand the meaning of 'be careful.' Would someone please tell me why the fuck there's blood pissing out of her head?"

The voice was unmistakable. Ice flooded Myke's veins. Not slavers. Slavers would have been preferable to this. Myke blinked. Her eyes finally cleared. She forced herself to look up and meet the predatory gaze of Aria T'Loak.


	26. The Touch of a Drunken Volus

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

On glancing at the chrono steadfastly keeping time in the corner of one screen, Liara was surprised to find it was early evening. She realised that she had lost all track of time. It was a frequent occurrence, probably ingrained in her personality. It also meant she could not berate Shepard for spending all day at Prax’s clinic.

Liara was buried within the galactic ramifications of the Alliance's separation from the Council. It would likely be her reality for months to come. Only hours after the announcement there had been a flood of incoming information from the broker's agents. Even with Mack and Hannah's assistance, the sheer amount was beyond individual comprehension. To process the data, Liara relied on an intricate weave of complex analytical programs. Often data was sorted, tagged and dealt with without the need for someone to physically lay eyes on it. Without such aids, the Broker network would be a paltry thing, overwhelmed by the vast quantities of information being channelled beneath its auspices.

She stubbornly ignored her need for the bathroom.

Currently she was digesting the production figures from one of the largest munitions factories on Palaven. In the scant hours since the Alliance announcement, output had already increased over three hundred percent. Although Turian memories did not run as deep as those of the Asari, the animosity created by the First Contact War stubbornly lingered. Although the Turian military had been decimated during the Reaper War, the rebuilding process was swift and efficient. In all likelihood, the Turians would be the first to challenge any seemingly hostile move made by the Alliance.

The Asari reaction was more protracted. Liara knew that her people were still processing the news before they formulated a response. That response would simply be to wait and let humanity make the first move. Asari concerns remained centred around the rebuilding of a devastated Thessia.

On Rannoch, the Quarians and geth had responded with interest, but it was muted by the vast distance between them and Alliance space. The threat, for the immediate future, was minimal. The Krogan were also looking inwardly. The end of the genophage had predictably resulted in a breeding frenzy. Krogan gestation periods meant that the first wave of younglings was only just starting to hatch. Even amongst a race as warlike as the Krogan, this had the effect of generating a sort of peace. Ruminations of Civil War were, for the time being at least, placed on hold. Liara knew that any one of the seemingly inattentive races would fight tooth and nail to protect what was theirs, or possibly even to carve out a stronger position in the new world. After everything they had been through what was one more skirmish? How did a territorial dispute compare with fighting to save an entire race? Even though no one would want it, war felt like it was inevitable.

One person could prevent it all. The one person who commanded the respect of the galaxy's most powerful races. That person was currently wallowing in bodily fluids in a back-alley clinic on Omega. Liara sighed. Shepard wasn't ready. Not remotely.

The bathroom could no longer wait.

Even in the bathroom, her mind kept working over different scenarios. Mostly involving ways to ensure Shepard stayed out of the role of peacemaker. Unfortunately, nothing was working.

The expression in the mirror reflected her anxiety – pinched, drawn, and pale.

Her drive had fled by the time she returned to the gloomy, windowless box that dominated too much of her life. Her gaze wandered, looking for a distraction and she quickly found it in an unread message. It was a rare occurrence that Liara simply forgot about something, but amidst the Shadow Broker's all-consuming galactic wide concerns, she had overlooked a request of a more personal nature. She had tasked an Omega-based agent with researching the personal history of one individual. The assignment was accepted without fuss. No questions were asked as to why the Broker was interested in an unremarkable asari maiden.

Now, as she stared at the message sitting in her personal inbox, Liara realised that she had honestly forgotten that she had made the request in the first place. In just a few days, Mycea Kasos had succeeded in winning her over. Not to the same extent that the asari maiden had managed with Shepard, but Liara considered herself an adept judge of character - Mycea's naivety and optimism appeared genuine.

Everything changed when Liara read the contents of the message.

"Fuck," she whispered succinctly.

* * *

 

It had taken every ounce of Shepard's willpower to restrain herself from strangling the Batarian, even before he opened his mouth. She recognised him immediately. Just a few days earlier the bastard had been on the receiving end of her boot. Two of his four eyes were still swollen as a result. It was when he mentioned 'Aria' and 'Myke' in the same sentence that she saw red. With Shepard having seen off her merc gang in emphatic fashion, Aria had resorted to baser methods to obtain an audience.

Shepard had no choice but to follow the Batarian toward Afterlife. He'd introduced himself as Hanek. His tone was smug. He knew his employer had won this round. Shepard ordinarily wouldn't care about the opinion of some two-bit merc. She wasn't interested in being friends. Only in biding her time until she could finish the job she had started on his face. However, the moment Myke's name was mentioned she had been unable to stop the anxiety and fear from flooding her expression. It was the reason that she now found herself trotting after Hanek as though she was the obedient lapdog. The situation was the exact one that she had fought to avoid.

Guilt gripped her stomach as they approached Aria's infamous club. The flaming façade seemed duller than Shepard remembered. The music reverberating from within however did not. The deep, pounding rhythms jarred her teeth. A drum beat marching her toward the encounter that she did not want to have. All for the sake of a ridiculously naïve asari who ought to have meant nothing to her.

Despite the passage of time since her last visit, her boots walked a familiar path through the heart of the club. Years ago, the view would have provided a welcome distraction. Instead the dancers’ gyrating bodies were ignored as Shepard kept her focus fixed high above the club floor. An ominous silhouette stood amidst the shadows. The Queen of Omega herself. Watching Shepard's approach.

Shepard knew she should have considered her appearance before coming face to face with Aria T'Loak. It was nothing to do with vanity and everything to do with the image she projected. Having given Yuri her jacket, she was dressed simply in cargos, white vest and heavy boots. Her hair was bundled back into a ponytail. At first glance, her appearance suggested just another wannabe merc – young and easily broken. This was not the individual Shepard wanted Aria to see. She missed her hardsuit. As restrictive as it was to be confined inside ceramic plates, it added bulk to her slender frame. Not to mention it was immensely helpful when the shooting started. Part of her even missed the disfiguring morass of orange scars that she had worn as a shield for so long. Now she felt frighteningly bare, her frail humanity laid out in stark relief.

As she crested the stairs leading up to Aria's private eyrie, the first face she saw was not that of Aria. It was Myke. The maiden was perched stiffly on the couch. Her stiff-backed defiance was negated by the terrified pallor she wore. A crust of dried blood covered the side of her head. Myke turned toward the stairs. Toward Shepard. Sheer relief flooded her face. In that moment Shepard found the strength that had been eluding her.

As she ascended the last stair, just before planting her boots firmly on the level, Shepard's gaze settled on Aria herself. Omega's de facto ruler was still facing the club floor below. Her attention however was not on Afterlife's patrons. It was a pretence. Aria knew exactly where Shepard was. There was no doubt a small smirk on the asari's face as she appraised the human entering her domain.

"What the fuck are you doing, T'Loak?" Shepard felt that it was imperative she speak first. Her tone was calm but firm. "Threatening my friends is not the best way to get my attention."

"You of all people should be familiar with the rules around here, Shepard," Aria replied in a mocking voice.

"Spare me the 'don't fuck with Aria' speech," Shepard said dismissively. She clearly remembered the effect that those words had on her the first time she heard them. While Aria had not intimidated her, Shepard had nevertheless received the warning signals very clearly. This was an individual not to be trifled with. Much had happened to her in the time since. Going toe to toe with the asari no longer fazed her as it once had. "You wanted my attention, you've got it."

Aria finally turned. The anticipated smirk lingered on her lips. Shepard expected to find the asari's eyes cold, but instead they danced with amusement and possibly even curiosity. As relaxed as Aria was, Shepard's own nonchalance was a cover. She remained on edge. There were surprisingly few goons in the eerie itself, just Hanek and an unfamiliar Turian, but Shepard knew that Aria was more than capable of defending herself. If the meeting descended into violence, Shepard would lose. The silence dragged on for almost a minute as they appraised one another.

"You look good for a twice-dead woman," T'Loak announced eventually. Her smirk was leering.

At no point had Shepard been interested in trading small talk. Although she kept her focus fixed on Aria out of necessity, she remained aware of Myke. The young asari had barely moved from her position on the couch. In Aria's intimidating presence she lacked any of her usual spark. Shepard didn't blame her. It took every ounce of her own confidence and strength to match the steely gaze of Omega's ruler.

"We can trade pleasantries after you let Kasos leave." Shepard knew she had no leverage to make such demands. At the same time it was tearing her apart to see Myke so wretched and to know that she was the cause. "She's nobody."

Aria's smirk became a full-blown smile. "Obviously."

Shepard folded her arms across her chest to keep them from shaking. It had been a poor choice of words. The 'nobody' had been enough to make Shepard drop everything and come running. For all her stoicism, Myke clearly meant something to her. Plying Aria's conscience would do little. It was very likely she didn't have one. She did however have an exceptionally large ego.

"I'm here to see you Aria, not quibble over some asari maiden. You've already got a whole stable of them plying their wares down below, you don't need another." Shepard hated the callous tone of her voice. Regardless of whether Myke saw through her words, she knew that they would still hurt.

"Fine," Aria waved her hand dismissively. "She's served her purpose."

When Shepard turned to face Myke, the asari was still rooted to her seat. Her expression was uncertain. "Get out of here." Shepard's voice carried no warmth. The urgency was masked, but it was there. All she could think about was getting Myke out of an environment where she didn’t belong. "Now."

"But-" Myke started to protest. Her gaze darted from Aria, to Hanek and the turian before settling back on Shepard. The maiden rose to her feet and squared her shoulders defiantly. "I'm not leaving you alone." She shifted her expression back to Aria. Some of her bravado returned as she glared at the older asari. "Not with _her_."

Aria laughed. Full throated, honest. "The little one has found a quad at last!" Without warning she flared blue. Effortless. Powerful. The fields lashed outwards and swept Myke from her feet, wiping the defiant expression from her face at the same time. By the time the younger asari landed hard on her back, Aria had already extinguished her biotic field. The whole exercise had taken a mere second, like swatting a fly. "Run along like Shepard told you, Kasos. The grown-ups need to have a conversation."

Cradling her injured arm, with unshed tears glistening in her eyes, Myke cast one last look at Shepard. Her inadequacies had been laid bare. She was useful only as a means to drag Shepard down. Her departure was slow as she had to drag herself to her feet. Shepard made no move to help.

A distinct wave of relief passed through Shepard's body when Myke disappeared down the stairs. The maiden did not belong in Aria's presence. As inept as Shepard was at the whole game, Myke had no business playing in the first place.

Following a dismissive wave of their boss's hand, Hanek and his compatriot silently departed the eyrie. Shepard was left alone with the Queen of Omega. Aria crossed to the couch and settled down in a graceful, predatory series of movements.

"Down to business?" she suggested as Shepard took a seat on the opposite side of the couch. She cupped the back of her head in her hands and stretched as a precursor for what was to come. All traces of the smirk had disappeared by the time she met Shepard's gaze. "First and foremost, what the fuck are you doing on Omega?"

* * *

 

Myke lingered outside Afterlife for a few minutes, skulking in the shadows as she watched those coming and going. An internal debate raged as to whether she should ignore Shepard and march back inside. She had to do something. Her entire body hummed with pent up anger. It was directed at Aria T'Loak for being the raving bitch that she was; at Shepard for dismissing her so callously; and at herself for having been stupid enough to be caught in the first place. Most of her anger was reserved for the unknown forces that had decreed she be born without biotic ability. Whether it was the fault of her parents or just a giant 'fuck you' from some deity, Myke had never felt as helpless as she had over the past few hours. She lived her life to this point unconcerned by her lack of biotics. Being thrown into the midst of larger-than-life individuals exposed her for the fraud that she was. Shepard was right. She was nobody.

The one thing she could do was find someone who would be able to back Shepard up. Although a comfortable truce had developed between her and Liara, it was clear that they would never be good friends. Then there was the fact that the other maiden was extremely protective of Shepard. Myke had to weigh up the risks of not telling her, versus telling her and possibly being flayed alive. She didn't know whether it was possible for a biotic to flay someone alive, but even the prospect was suitably terrifying. Myke squared her shoulders and made her decision.

Ten minutes later Liara admitted her to the apartment with little fuss, even going so far as to offer her a drink before asking what brought her there.

"Evan is at Afterlife!" Myke blurted without thinking. She paused and drew a breath before continuing. "I mean, she's with Aria…talking to Aria, because of me." She studied Liara's face, watching for the first hints of fury to appear. "Aria's goons grabbed me in the markets. Evan…well, she was Evan. She came running. Now she's alone with T'Loak."

Myke finally managed to stop the babble of words leaving her lips but she continued to bound from foot to foot with nervous agitation. The angry response that she had expected from Liara never materialised. Instead the older maiden continued to stare at her with an unreadable expression. Myke ducked her head. Calm was just as bad as angry.

"I know," Liara replied simply.

"You know?" Myke was incredulous. "How the hell do you know?"

Liara regarded her with a level stare. It was almost condescending. "There are few things that Aria does of which I remain unaware. This particular piece of information especially. Evan does not like me keeping tabs on her, but in this place? With friends like you? It remains an evil necessity."

A scowl formed on Myke's face in response. "At least Evan has a friend," she muttered under her breath. She met Liara's gaze with a challenging stare. "Well, what are we going to do about it?"

" _We_ will do nothing. You have already done enough and there is little I can do."

"You can help her!" Myke protested vehemently. She could not stop a shrill edge forming on her voice at she yelled at Liara. "Instead you're just going to stay here doing nothing?"

"It is pointless becoming worked up over matters beyond your control," was the other asari's infuriatingly calm reply.

Myke found a measure of calm of her own. Instead she fumed inwardly. "I can't do anything, but surely you can! You've got biotics don't you? You can kick T'Loak's ass. Instead you're just going to sit there with that damn superior look on your face while Aria has Evan!"

Liara cocked her head to one side as though Myke was merely an interesting species of plant life, or perhaps an insect on the wall. Myke's anger only heightened. As much as she wanted to be able to like Liara for Shepard's sake, she could not bring herself to think of the other asari as anything but a self-righteous bitch. Although she had never left Omega, Myke had seen similar types pass through Omega countless times over the decades. Aristocratic young maidens who thought the world would fall at their feet. They came to Omega on a whim, seeking to defy their mothers with a career as a merc or a dancer. Some succeeded. Most were quickly swallowed by the ravenous entity in which they found themselves. Liara T'Soni was different. There were elements of an aristocratic maiden about her. Then there was something else. Myke had difficulty expressing exactly what that 'something else' was. She wanted to say power, but the word was insufficient. As Myke studied the other maiden's expression, she suddenly wondered whether she would have preferred to be back in Afterlife with Aria.

"Aria does not have Evan," Liara eventually replied. "Not by any stretch of the imagination. The meeting was inevitable. It just happened that Aria chose to accelerate matters by preying on Evan's compassion and sense of loyalty."

"Yeah, I get it. The whole thing's my fault," Myke skulked, still feeling utterly useless.

There was no disagreement in response from Liara. The lack of one said everything that Myke needed to know.

"Besides," Liara continued. "There are very few individuals who can kick Aria T'Loak's arse as you so charmingly put it. As proficient as I am, I am certainly not one of those people."

Liara left her standing, stewing, in the middle of the apartment. As she crossed to a nearby compartment, Myke watched her with varying levels of mistrust and loathing. She eventually returned holding a small medkit.

"Take a seat." Liara nodded toward the couch.

Myke just stared at her in disbelief. "Why?"

"The wound on your head requires treatment," Liara replied.

The blow to her head had been completely forgotten. The reminder brought with it a throbbing headache. "I don't care about my head. Evan is-"

"I would suggest that you sit down, Mycea Kasos" Liara interrupted in a firm voice. "I may not be able to take on Aria, but I am fairly certain that I would be able to keep you from acting out whatever fool plan is floating around in your head."

In truth Myke had no plan in her head – fool or otherwise. Her only concern was having Shepard escape unscathed from her conversation with Aria T'Loak. Although their friendship was still relatively new, Myke felt as though she owed the human everything. Regardless of the differences she had with Liara, she had at least expected them both to be on the same page when it came to protecting Shepard. Keeping further disgruntled thoughts to herself, Myke instead made her feelings on the matter clear in the surly way she walked to the couch. She sat and scowled as Liara matter-of-factly began tending the wound on her head. Her touch was just as gentle as it had been when patching up her shoulder.

"I seem to be making a habit of this." The repetitive situation was not lost on Liara. Myke winced as she prodded around the swollen edges of the cut.

"Ow!" Myke snapped, suddenly wrenching her head away as she glared at Liara. "You've got a touch like a drunken volus!"

Liara couldn't help but smile in response. "Encountered many have you?"

"Not really, no," Myke admitted. "They've only got three stubby little fingers. I figure they'd be clumsy."

"I will endeavour to be gentler," Liara promised.

"Guess you think I'm fucking pathetic," Myke said as she submitted herself to Liara's ministrations once again. "Can't even defend myself from a bunch of two-bit mercs."

"That word did not cross my lips," Liara assured her. "Although it does seem strange that you have not learned anything about self-defence despite living on Omega your entire life."

Myke shrugged. "Maybe I should try. I never needed to, never wanted to. You'd have thought that a mother like mine would have insisted that her only daughter be able to defend herself, but she never did. Always said that she wanted me to live a different life." She caught Liara staring at her strangely. Myke realised that she had never mentioned her mother to either Shepard or Liara. She had not had any cause to. "My mother was a merc," was all she offered by way of explanation.

"Interesting," Liara commented. When Myke expected her to pry further, she changed the topic. "I care a great deal about Evan, more than you can possibly understand. I know it may seem as though I am abandoning her to Aria, I assure you I am not. There is something that Evan needs to realise, sooner rather than later. I am hoping that Aria may help her to reach that realisation before it is too late."

Myke frowned. "What realisation?"

Liara smiled again. It was not a happy smile. When the reply was not immediately forthcoming, Myke supposed that she was not going to answer. However eventually she replied in a soft, determined voice. "That she is the architect of our fate."

* * *

 

"What the fuck am I doing on Omega?" Shepard repeated Aria's question in a mocking tone to buy herself time. She hadn't realised the extent to which she was unwelcome in Aria's domain. "I'm keeping to myself. I can't see the problem."

Aria suddenly jerked forward in her seat. If Shepard had not schooled herself to equanimity then she would have reacted along a similar vein. As it was she remained calmly staring at Aria, almost enjoying the visible play of emotions across the asari's face.

"You wanna know the problem, Commander?" Aria fired back. "You've been here a month. A month and you haven't laid waste to a single district, nor have you cracked any skulls besides those incompetent morons I sent to fetch you. Frankly I'm fucking bored. And if I'm bored then I'm pretty sure that you're bored too. Did they castrate you while you were on ice?"

Shepard's calm faltered. It was replaced by confusion. "You're berating me because I haven't caused any trouble?"

Aria snorted disdainfully. "The human I remember carved through the ranks of Eclipse, the Blue Suns and the Blood Pack to get what she wanted. You and that Justicar of yours laid waste to half a district just to put down one Ardat Yakshi. That human had fire. I might have even liked her. You're just a shadow."

"You went to all the trouble of getting me here just to rip me to shreds?" Shepard asked. "I'm not that Shepard anymore – the famous Commander, the marine. Dying twice seems to do that to a person."

"So you died, boo fucking hoo," Aria replied without sympathy or commiseration. "I don't subscribe to a goddess or a higher power, but some fuck decided that you should be given more chances than the rest of us. What do you do? Sulk around on Omega of all places. Don't get me wrong, this place is fucking paradise, but it's my idea of paradise. You could be lying on a beach on Thessia-"

"I hate the beach," Shepard interjected. Confusion still reigned as to why Aria was even bothering with the pseudo pep talk.

"-instead you're doing nothing while the Galaxy is falling to pieces around you," Aria finished.

Aria delivered a challenging stare to accompany her words. The effect was lost because Shepard was still confused as to the point that was trying to be made. As she ruminated on the odd words, she was beginning to suspect that the Queen of Omega actually gave a fuck. The real question was why – especially when Shepard herself was struggling to find any empathy.

"There was a war," Shepard tried to explain. "Civilisations need time to rebuild."

"Ah...time. A commodity which will be in short supply following the Alliance's latest party trick," Aria continued. She paused, studying her own fingernails for a moment as though suddenly bored during her tirade. "I've got nothing against war - keeps things interesting, weeds out the galaxy's deadweight, and there's money to be made." It was only then that she lifted her head and gave Shepard a level stare. "Full scale war is another thing altogether. It's not good business, Shepard."

Shepard's composure deflated the moment she realised that she hadn't a clue as to what the Alliance's 'latest party trick' was – at least not beyond keeping her prisoner and allowing arseholes to dominate their ranks. She realised that shrewd tactics would be needed to salvage her self-respect – if that was even possible.

Leaning forward with her elbows poised casually on her knees, Shepard tried to look vaguely smug. "Am I to understand that you're asking me to sort out the Alliance's shit?" _Whatever that shit is._

"You're _The Shepard_ ," Aria replied. "If anyone can make humanity realise that they are idiots to have left the Council it will be you."

Inwardly Shepard reeled at Aria's inadvertent revelation. _Does she mean that the Alliance have actually left the Council? That's…bullshit. It's beyond ludicrous_. Shepard vividly recalled the moment that she herself told the Council to fuck off rather than accept SpecTRe reinstatement, but she never expected the Alliance would follow suit. She fought for calm. "I wouldn't have taken you for a supporter of the Council, Aria."

"I'm not," Aria said in an emphatic voice. "Except when upstart young races decide that they're too good to belong to something that is the Galaxy's best chance at peace." Aria saw the expression on Shepard's face and rolled her eyes. "Don't look at me like that. I don't like rules, fucking hate them – but as long as they apply to someone other than me, there are things they're good for. Avoiding war is one of those."

"Forgive me if I'm sceptical, but-"

"I'm not going to tell you how to live your life, Commander. I just thought that someone who died for peace would fight a little harder to keep it," Aria finished in a gruff tone. She suddenly looked away with an awkward expression fluttering across her face. It vanished a moment later. "Goddess, if you don't give a fuck then I'm not going to sit here and waste my breath."

Shepard knew why Aria had sent her bodyguards away. This was not a side of the Queen of Omega that she would have expected or recognised. Regardless of whether Aria was simply protecting Omega's profits or something more altruistic, she obviously viewed the conversation as a weakness.

"I give a fuck," Shepard replied. "But I think you might find yourself sorely disappointed with my political abilities-"

"Dammit, Shepard," Aria snorted in disgust. "I don't want you to talk to the fuckers, I want you to stick to shit you're actually good at. Killing, blowing shit up, I don't care. Whatever gets the job done."

"You're still pissed at me for making a mess last time I was here," Shepard commented in an arched voice.

"I was, then Cerberus came along. Those cunts almost derailed everything I've built here."

"Hence the gratitude to Liara."

"Indeed," Aria murmured. "Your girlfriend has her uses."

The conversation had not evolved in the way Shepard had expected. Although she did not indulge in wild speculation, she had pictured herself dangling upside down in a singularity within five minutes. Instead she and Aria were having an almost civil conversation.

"You know I can't make any promises," Shepard began. _Especially considering I only found out about this whole mess two minutes ago. Fuck, the fucking Alliance_. "And I'm in no hurry whatsoever to go running back to Alliance space."

"This is just the start, Shepard," Aria replied. "Although this conversation was long overdue."

Shepard frowned as a thought struck her. "Your social skills could use a little work, T'Loak. First your goons tried to forcibly drag me into your presence, and now you drag Kasos into all of this shit. You could've just asked nicely."

Aria threw her head back and laughed mockingly. "I thought you knew me better than that? I don't ask nicely. Besides, Kasos could do with a dose of reality."

"I didn't think you would concern yourself with the affairs of one of your citizens," Shepard said out of curiosity.

Aria shrugged. "I am Omega. There are many things that come to my attention, especially the manner in which you spend your time skulking around the markets. Surely the infamous Commander Shepard would want to spend even her idle time more wisely?"

"I’m not wise,” Shepard replied, rising to her feet decisively. "Well…I can't say that this has been entirely fun."

Aria remained seating. Smirking. "It was never meant to be fun. Do what you will, Shepard. Know this, if you decide to act, I may consider offering you my support."

"Provided I want it in the first place."

Shepard felt particularly reckless. She was still waiting for that biotic singularity. Instead Aria flashed a devilish grin that might possibly have been worse. Without a further word Shepard turned and descended from the eerie. She felt Aria's eyes as daggers in her back, even as she strode across the club floor toward the exit. Omega's Queen would no doubt watch her until she was out of sight.

During her walk back to the apartment, Shepard felt nothing other than an odd, detached calm. In hindsight, the conversation with Aria felt surreal to the point where she wasn't sure if it actually happened. It wasn't until she stepped across the threshold of her home and came face to face with Liara that reality hit. A myriad of emotions flashed across her bondmate's face in what felt like a heartbeat. First there was an obvious fear, then quickly followed by relief, then curiosity. Finally, the emotion that eventually won out and remained on her face, irritation. Reluctant to engage with Liara initially, Shepard searched for and found Myke perched awkwardly on the sofa. There was almost no trace of the head wound she had sustained other than a slight sheen of medi-gel on her forehead. She responded with a hesitant smile to indicate that she knew why Shepard had chosen such cruel words in Aria's presence. However the smile faltered and disappeared quickly. Although Shepard had intended her words to be fictitious, they carried a grain of truth. Beneath Liara and Myke's combined gaze, Shepard suddenly felt as though she needed something she hadn't had in a long time – a drink.

"How's your head?" Shepard broke the ice.

"Liara patched me up." Myke nodded. She scrubbed at her forehead, close to the wound. "I'm just left with a fucking big headache."

"There will not even be a scar," Liara added her own reassurance. "Much to her disgust."

Myke scowled. "Told you I didn't want any medi-gel."

"Trust me, scars aren't all they're cracked up to be," Shepard admitted from past experience. "You're better off staying pretty."

As Myke's grin hesitantly returned, Liara folded her arms across her chest and gave Shepard a level stare that indicated she wasn't going to stand around trading small talk. Shepard decided to pre-empt whatever it was her bondmate had to say.

"Why didn't you tell me that the Alliance has left the Council?" Shepard asked quietly. She could not keep the slight accusatory tone from her voice. "I had to hear it from Aria of all people."

"If you were not so determined to ignore everything beyond the cocoon you have built around yourself, you would have found out for yourself," Liara pointed out. Shepard opened her mouth to reply, but was silenced by a determined expression. "I understand that you want to shut it all out, but you still need to be informed. What happened today could have been avoided."

Shepard disagreed. "I regret Myke being dragged into all of this, but I needed to talk to her."

"Hey, I can handle it!" Myke piped up.

"You can no longer afford to live such a reckless existence, Evan." Liara ignored Myke. "Not now. You are trying to match Aria at her game and failing because you launch yourself headfirst into everything without thinking, without being fully informed."

Although Shepard nodded in agreement, the admonishment was still difficult to accept. "I did what I had to do. Aria couldn't get to you, so she took the only other person on this rock that I give a damn about."

Liara was not impressed by her deductions. "You let your concern for someone get in the way of rationality. You needed to take the time to stop and think-"

"This is Aria we're talking about. She doesn't give a thought to killing people simply for looking at her the wrong way," Shepard interrupted.

"Um, I should really go home," Myke mumbled awkwardly. She shuffled forward off the sofa and began to edge toward the door.

"Her life was never in danger," Liara stressed.

"Aria doesn't give a fuck if people like Myke die whilst playing her _game_ ," Shepard continued. "I thought you might, Liara."

Shepard bit her lip. She wondered if she'd pushed things too far. Liara simply regarded Shepard with a damnably serene expression on her face. The lack of response was irritating. Shepard turned her back on Liara before she replied. She needed to focus on something else, anything, before she lost her temper. In an effort to calm down she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

"As callous as she is, even Aria would not deliberately harm her own daughter."

"And I'm not trying to play Aria's game," Shepard said, having not heard Liara's announcement. "I'm playing mine."

"What? That monster isn't my father!" Myke suddenly snapped. "And she sure as hell isn't my mother."

The exclamation immediately jerked Shepard out of her reverie. "Whose mother? What did you say?"

Myke surged forward, fists clenched and eyes flashing defiantly. "My mother was Leda Kasos. My father was some bastard Turian who left her when she was pregnant."

"No one is disputing the fact that your mother was Leda Kasos. I am merely saying that she lied to you regarding the identity of your father," Liara replied calmly. "Possibly due to the stigma of having a pureblood child…but more likely due to the fact that the other asari in question, your father, is Aria T'Loak."

"Okaaay,” Sheard replied uneasily. She studied the young asari's face intently, but she saw nothing of Aria T'Loak in her features. "Was Aria playing me all along? Through her?"

"This is all bullshit!" Myke protested. She held Shepard's gaze with an air of desperation. "Evan, you know this is bullshit. I'd never even met Aria before today."

"Were it anyone else, reasonable deduction would suggest that she would be playing her part in her father's game," Liara answered softly, almost kindly. "But in this case I cannot find anything to indicate that Kasos is lying."

"That monster is not my father!" Myke hissed. "If she was, how the hell could she have murdered my mother and left me to fend for myself on the streets?"

Liara's expression was genuinely sad as she regarded the young maiden. "I do not know the intricacies of Aria's relationship with Leda. It was evidently short-lived, although serious enough to produce a child. When Leda challenged Aria's rule, she had no choice but to eliminate that threat – swiftly and brutally. It is how she has managed to remain in power for so long. I am…sorry that you had to find out in this manner, Mycea, I truly am, but it would have become apparent eventually. Aria has been indirectly protecting you your entire life. It is the reason that no one bothers you. Not because you are invisible, but because she has been pulling strings around you – subtly, but undeniably."

It was difficult for Shepard to simply stand by and watch Myke's usually optimistic expression crumple. She turned to Liara and pleaded silently with her bondmate to leave the pair of them alone. Without a further word, Liara inclined her head. She ascended the stairs. Shepard waited until she heard the door above close shut before she approached the young asari. Myke had remained standing, but her shoulders sagged and she appeared close to slumping to the floor.

"Hey," Shepard whispered awkwardly. "I'm sorry for what I said, about jumping to the conclusion that Aria was using you. I guess I was reeling a little."

Myke shook her head. "Nah, I'd react the same way. The boss's daughter just happens to latch onto you? Work her way into your life? You'd be stupid to believe that was just a coincidence." She lowered her head and stared at the floor. "Absolutely…fucking…stupid."

"You're going to accept what Liara said? That Aria is your father?"

"No!" Myke replied emphatically. She sighed. "And yes. It…explains a lot."

"If it's any consolation, you're nothing like her," Shepard commented quietly.

"I should hope not. Bitch is fucking crazy," Myke said determinedly.

Shepard grinned inadvertently. "That she is. Unfortunately, she's one of those crazies that wields a hell of a lot of power. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to go home," Myke eventually admitted. She managed a tight-lipped smile when she saw the blatantly concerned expression on Shepard's face. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not going to do anything stupid. Just need to sleep this headache off. Probably the worst thing I'll do is wipe the med-gel off so I at least get a scar out of all of this bullshit."

"Please don't," Shepard sighed in exasperation. "I meant what I said about scars."

"Well you're certainly not my fucking father," Myke muttered as she prepared to leave. She cast one last glance over her shoulder. "Thanks, Evan. For coming to get me…even if it turns out that it wasn't necessary."

"Don't mention it," Shepard replied. "I'd do it again."

A few minutes later Shepard found Liara perched on the edge of their bed with a contemplative expression on her face. If anything, she appeared slightly guilty. She looked up when Shepard entered.

"Is she alright?" Liara asked quietly as Shepard leaned against the doorframe.

"No...not right now," Shepard replied honestly. "Maybe when all of this has had time to sink in, but at the moment she must feel as though she's been punched in the gut. You have to admit, it's a hell of a revelation."

"I could have found a different way to handle it," Liara admitted.

"Probably."

Liara glared. "You are not supposed to agree so readily."

Moving away from the door frame, Shepard took up a perch on the bed next to her bondmate. Instead of looking at her, she studied the view beyond their window. "Tell you what, you admit that you were wrong in this, and I'll admit I've been wrong to shut the rest of the galaxy out."

"You were not wrong, Evan," Liara protested quietly. She placed a gentle hand atop Shepard's thigh. "Just…tired."

"Yeah, maybe that's it. And maybe it's the fact that I've already given my life…twice," Shepard said, keeping her eyes fixed on the view from the window. She suddenly felt tired. It was decidedly difficult to focus on anything. "I feel as though I've done enough. I've earned the right to be tired and not give a fuck…yet I can't even say that without caring. Aria even called me out on it. She has motives of her own, but I can't deny that her support would be useful."

"It would indeed be useful," Liara agreed. "The difficulty of course lies in the price."

"Trouble is, I don't know what to do. What should I do, Li?" Shepard asked wearily. The room suddenly began to spin around her. "Shit, I need to sit down for a bit."

"Evan…you are sitting down," Liara reminded her. In a business-like manner she turned Shepard to face her. Pressing a palm to her forehead, her nose wrinkled with concern. "You are burning up."

Shepard's stomach lurched uncomfortably as she gave her bondmate an apologetic grin. It faltered and disappeared a moment later as the familiar symptoms made themselves known with a vengeance. "I think perhaps I'm not immune to simian bacterial flu after all. Liara…you need to help me to the bathroom…this is about to get messy."

 


	27. Daddy Issues

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2, Somewhere in the Terminus Systems**

Sam didn't understand Joker's attempt to stamp his personality on the _Normandy's_ cockpit. A frown marred her forehead as she reached out to swat at the objects suspended above their heads. They bobbled frenetically for several seconds before settling back into their dormant state. Her frown deepened. What was the point of the damn things? They were completely impractical, unattractive, and probably against regulations. Realisation dawned. A knowing sigh escaped Sam's lips. She had just listed all the reasons exactly why they were hanging in the cockpit.

"What the bloody hell are these stupid things anyway?" Sam asked Joker. She swatted at them again for effect.

"Hey!" Joker protested. "Go easy. Those are antiques."

"Really?" Sam asked dubiously. When she thought of antiques she thought of those few odd students in her university days who collected music on big round discs. "I can't imagine their purpose."

He snorted. "They aren't supposed to have a purpose. They hang. That's it."

Sam still wasn't impressed. "What are they called anyway?"

"Fluffy dice," Joker replied with a grin.

"Oh," Sam groaned theatrically. "Because they're dice…and fluffy." She made to swipe them again but a glare from Joker stayed her wayward hand.

_{I have taken the liberty of informing Jeff that the object is against Alliance regulations,}_ EDI chimed in. The sudden introduction of her velvety tone to the conversation reminded Sam exactly why she had been so enamoured with the AI's voice when she first arrived on the _Normandy_. _{He has since informed me to cease being a 'party pooper,' although I would argue that simply pointing out his transgression hardly qualifies as spoiling fun. I was merely making an observation.}_

"Admit it, EDI, you don't like them either," Joker sighed.

_{Their functionality is questionable,}_ EDI replied – somewhat tactfully for the normally abrupt AI. _{And there is a 34% chance that they will cause some sort of disruption during the course of your duties}._ EDI went silent for a few moments while Joker glanced up at his ornament with a find smile. _{Our discussion on this matter must be postponed; we are approaching the asari vessel. Requesting security confirmation. Enabling docking coordinates.}_

As EDI effortlessly switched into business mode, Sam ignored the readouts flashing in front of Joker and chose to peer out of one of the _Normandy's_ viewing ports. At first all she could make out was a nondescript blob off their port side. As the two ships drew nearer, her lips parted in surprise. She had expected to see the unmistakable elegance that marked ships of asari design, instead all she saw was a nondescript, battered freighter that had clearly seen better days. There were no markings, nothing to indicate it was an asari vessel.

"Clearly they're travelling incognito," Sam remarked as she eased herself out of her seat. Although Ashley hadn't issued an order for dress uniforms, she at least wanted to brush her teeth and perhaps even apply a little make-up. After all, it wasn't every day that the _Normandy_ docked with a ship full of asari. "I'll catch you later."

Other than Liara T'Soni, Sam had only spoken to the occasional storekeeper on the Citadel. For all their inherent beauty, the alien race could be fiendishly intimidating. She could already feel sweat forming on her palms. _Just great_ , Sam thought irritably. _A ship full of asari commandos practically lands on my doorstep and I'm sweating like a pig._ Suddenly hiding in engineering for the foreseeable future sounded like a very good plan indeed.

Almost half an hour later, with both teeth and face scrubbed and a tiny a dab of perfume behind her ear in lieu of make-up, Sam lined up next to the other senior members of the crew. While there was a quiet murmur of anticipation in the air, there was also an undercurrent of apprehension as to what exactly they had signed up for. While the exact parameters of their mission remained unknown, the crew had clearly been told that the mission was off the Alliance's books. That in itself was enough to stir up doubts, especially amongst the new, still untested members of the crew. The old hands would follow Ashley to hell and back regardless of the consequences. Those fresh out of training still had one eye on their future careers. Sam sought out Ashley, hoping to catch her gaze for even a moment. However, the Captain had shifted into her marine persona. Ashley's iron-edged gaze was meant to indicate that she was not to be trifled with, but, if anything, she appeared nervous and unsettled.

_Does she know something we don't?_ Sam asked herself. _Just what is the_ Normandy _getting mixed up in?_ While the prospect of seeing action no longer terrified her as it once did, Sam was smart enough to know when to be scared. Grenier was standing on her right. Something in his expression indicated that he knew, but he simply flashed a reassuring grin that unnerved her further.

"Aren't you a little nervous?" Sam asked quietly.

The affable XO merely shrugged. "What's there to be nervous about?" His eyebrows lifted quizzically. "Don't tell me you're still hung up on meeting asari in person?"

"And you're not?" Sam asked irritably, feeling as though he was mocking her.

"I'm not as young as I look," Grenier replied with a wink. "I've been around the Galaxy a few times."

Sam scowled. "You're still an idiot."

Grenier ignored the insubordination. "Traynor, we're not rendezvousing with a bunch of giggling maidens, these are asari commandos. They're each likely to have a couple of centuries worth of experience of killing people using any and all means necessary."

Unfortunately, Grenier's warning didn't make the asari commandos any less attractive. The interior door opened and a trio of asari stepped through onto the CIC, followed by one familiar figure that sent a murmur of surprise rippling throughout the humans. Javik, the last remaining Prothean and former member of Normandy's crew, strode onto the deck as though he had never left. He immediately locked gazes with the Captain and his thin mouth twisted.

"So he is real," Grenier murmured appreciatively.

"Tevos didn't say anything about his presence," Ashley said coldly as she ignored all pretence at offering a polite greeting to their guests.

The lead commando regarded Ashley with a level stare. Dressed in battle worn leathers, she cut an imposing figure. Her skin was a dark, smoky blue with pink markings covering her forehead and the sides of her face. "Commander Javik is operating with us in an advisory capacity. If his presence offends you, Captain Williams, I would suggest you learn to deal with it." Her expression remained unreadable, but her tone was unimpressed.

There was a quiet, discreet cough. Sam turned to find Grenier with a confused expression on his face. He beckoned her closer. She obliged, shuffling sideways in a conspiratorial fashion.

"Did I miss something?" the XO asked in a worried whisper. "It looks as though the Captain doesn't care all that much for the last remaining Prothean."

"They didn’t exactly see eye to eye on something in the past," Sam replied, her own voice barely audible. She did not want to run the risk of anyone overhearing her. Neither Ashley nor the asari captain appeared in the mood for leniency.

Ashley's lips were pressed together in a tight line for several moments. "Fine," Ashley said, watching Javik out of the corner of her eye. "Just keep him out of my way."

The Prothean appeared unperturbed by Ashley's coldness, but it did not keep him from making one of his blunt observations. " _Captain_ Williams? It appears as though your swift rise through the ranks does not reflect your ability as a warrior."

"Ouch!" Grenier whistled through his teeth.

At his side, Sam was nervously looking back and forth between the lead commando and Ashley. While _Normandy's_ Captain appeared a hairsbreadth from losing control, amusement had now settled onto the asari's striking features.

"Although Javik appears to have made his mind, I will reserve my opinion until I see you in action. Tevos has vouched for you, that remains enough…for now," she commented as she extended her hand toward Ashley. "Captain Tasha Kurin."

"Captain Ashley Williams." Ashley's response was abrupt. She took the proffered hand, but in what looked like a crushing grip. Kurin's expression did not waver.

"I served on Thessia during the Reaper War. My unit provided support to Commander Shepard when she made her push through to the Temple of Athame. I never knew why so many of my girls died that day. Never did find out what it was all for. I just tell myself that it helped in some way to win the war."

"I can't answer that for you," Ashley replied. She had been left in command of the _Normandy_ with both Shepard and Liara down on Thessia. Obviously eager to move things along, the Captain turned to her crew. "I'd like you to meet the _Normandy's_ senior crew-"

"We don't have time for pleasantries, Williams," Kurin interrupted, with only a cursory glance at Sam and the rest. "We've picked up a slender lead, any wasted time will see it disappear. I need you to gather what you need and come with me."

"I'm not going anywhere on that hunk of junk," Ashley replied. "The _Normandy_ is-"

"One of the most recognisable ships in the Galaxy," Kurin finished. "For now at least, this is a covert operation. Or have you forgotten how to be a Spectre while you've been playing at being captain?"

Ashley's mouth opened to reply with some choice words – words which would no doubt damage inter-species relations. With an immense display of willpower, she clamped her mouth shut again.

Kurin grinned. "That's settled. Try and bring some clothes that aren't uniforms."

Meanwhile Sam shared a glance with Grenier. Both were trying to fathom whether the conversation had actually played out the way they remembered it. "This is going to be a long couple of weeks.”

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

Shepard awoke to a dull ache radiating throughout her body. Although the ache wasn't particularly painful, she was disgruntled enough to utter a small moan. There was an almost instant response to the sound. An urgent movement rocked the bed slightly. A few seconds later the room was bathed in a soft glowing light. It was bright enough for her to make out Liara's concerned expression, but not so bright that she had to close her eyes.

As the last vestiges of sleep were replaced by a half-hearted sense of alertness, Shepard struggled to remember why she felt like death warmed up. The resulting tableau of memories – mostly involving some aspect of the bathroom – made her realise why the last few days had been repressed. Despite her protests to the contrary, she had managed to catch another bout of simian bacterial flu. As a result she now felt like a dried out shell of her former self, sore in places that would never be mentioned in polite society. As she feebly propped herself up into a more of a sitting position, Liara handed her a glass of water. The cool liquid felt like silk as it slid down her tortured throat.

"The good news is that you are going to be fine," Liara said as she pressed a gentle hand to Shepard's cheek. "The bad news is that, after witnessing all that I have over the past few days, I doubt whether I can ever find you attractive again."

"That's cold, T'Soni," Shepard replied with a tired smile. She handed the glass back. "I guess the next time I think I'm immune to something I should ask Miranda whether she rebuilt that part of me, huh?"

Liara did not appear amused in the slightest. "There will not be a next time, especially not with your cavalier attitude toward a life-threatening illness." When Shepard did not attempt to make a droll comment in reply, Liara continued, "And the next time I see Miranda Lawson she will hear about this. What was the use of spending billions of credits to bring you back when you could be taken out by a simple bout of flu?"

Shepard grinned. She definitely wanted to be present during that conversation. "You know this wasn't a simple bout of flu right?"

"I am not the one making light of the whole situation." The resulting expression on Liara's face made Shepard wish that she had not asked the question. "You may have blocked the memory of the stench from your mind, I do not have the same luxury."

Despite her gentle admonishments, Liara continued to stroke Shepard's cheek. The touch had a definite cooling effect on still-warm skin. It also served to remind her that Liara loved her unreservedly – well, that and the fact that the asari had remained with her over the past few days. Although her memories were hazy at best, she clearly remembered sitting on the toilet whilst Liara held a container in front of her as she heaved. Shepard winced sympathetically.

"Thank you, babe" she eventually said, coating her words in as much sincerity as she could muster. "You could have easily left me wallowing in a puddle of my own filth."

"Never," Liara whispered firmly. She leaned forward to deposit a gentle kiss on Shepard's forehead. When she leaned back, there was a conspiratorial smile on her face. "Clearly the past few days have not improved your dreadful sense of humour. How do you feel?"

"Well enough to make bad jokes," Shepard admitted.

"Please do not stop," Liara said as she folded herself down against Shepard's warm, slightly feverish flank. "I like the jokes. I like you making jokes."

For some reason Shepard found herself overcome by a wave of nostalgia. It had been a long time since she had played the role of the joker. "I used to joke all the time…before Akuze, before everything." A small sigh escaped her lips. "Eventually I came to believe that making light of the situation would compromise my ability to do my job. That it would trivialise the suffering of those around me. Now I realise that we all could have used the laughter." Shepard's arm felt as though it weighed a ton, but she still managed to lift it to drape it over Liara's shoulders. "Whatever is ahead of us, I promise to laugh more, even if it is at my own expense. At the moment though, I can't tell if it's Aria who is the one laughing. When we spoke, before I descended into a vomiting mess, she offered her support for what is to come, whatever that may be."

"You doubt the sincerity of her offer?" Liara asked.

"When it's Aria, I doubt everything she says," Shepard was quick to respond. "Although I get the sense that, this time around at least, she was being honest with me."

"I would be inclined to agree," Liara said softly. "Having Omega taken away from her severely unnerved Aria. She also knows that the Alliance would happily get their hands on the precious eezo here, not to mention the fact that dethroning her would be a major coup."

As Liara nuzzled into her side, on one level Shepard was enjoying the simple moment. On another, her mind was slowly beginning to kick into gear – like a piece of machinery that had lain dormant for too long. Shepard had never favoured the intelligence-gathering side of war. She was a combat soldier. She fought with guns. Data packets and secrets were firmly in Liara's domain. However, without the resources of the Alliance behind her, this new conflict was going to have to be waged in a different way. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she badly needed to replenish her lost strength.

"I might as well do something while I'm in bed," Shepard eventually declared. She even managed to inject some enthusiasm into her voice. "Can you give me access to relevant parts of the Broker network? I think have several months' worth of intrigue and analysis to catch up on."

Liara sat up slightly and flashed a quizzical expression in Shepard's direction, eventually realising that the request was serious. "You do realise that requires reading?" She laughed at the resulting indignant expression on her bondmate's face. "I think I can do better than give you access…after all, it does help to be on friendly terms with the Shadow Broker."

Shepard cocked an eyebrow in response. "Friendly terms?"

"At least for another few days," Liara explained. "While you still look like warmed up death."

"Agreed. Then you're in trouble," Shepard promised. Spending a few days in bed with nothing to do apart from wading through Liara's Intel didn't exactly spell fun, but she was already enjoying the careful attentions of her nurse – especially as it was usually difficult to get Liara to remain idle. Being able to think clearly for the first time in days, another thought crossed her mind. "How's Myke?"

"To tell the truth I do not know. She has not left her apartment," Liara admitted.

Shepard sighed. "I should talk to her, make sure she isn't going to do anything stupid."

"It is Kasos," Liara replied in a matter-of-fact voice. "You can guarantee she will do something stupid."

* * *

 

No one could accuse Mycea Kasos of being heroic. Despite her inadequacies, or perhaps because of them, she was quite content to remain that way. Unimportant, invisible, and expendable. As Shepard had rightly told Aria - a nobody. Her life had been simple. Rather than dwell on the centuries of the lengthy asari lifespan ahead of her, she thought little further beyond her next meal. Over the past few months that life had swiftly been eroded by a sense of purpose. In arriving on Omega Shepard had brought with her excitement and opportunity for the young asari. However, this latest development had changed everything again.

Around her Afterlife pulsed with its familiar animalistic beat. Lurking in the shadows of the club had always been a favourite pastime. Given that she usually lacked credits to drink or indulge in the carnal pleasures on offer, observing was all Myke could afford. It was necessary to remain discreet, lest she be accused of sampling something she had no intention of paying for. She had clear memories of the first time she watched Shepard walk into the club – wearing armour that clearly wasn't standard merc issue, armed to the teeth, and with a litany of fine glowing scars covering her face. Even her companions marked her as different - a human woman too beautiful to be real and a man with a serious expression who seemed bored with everything. Soldiers, mercs, pirates. They came and went in Afterlife. However, none had ever held such fascination as the enigmatic human. Although Shepard's appearance had changed, her physical presence was unmistakable. It was the reason Myke recognised her years later.

Now that same human had made her life inextricably complicated by dragging her into a world in which she didn't belong. Myke stared up at the dimply lit platform suspended above the club floor and felt a chill pass through her body. The better part of the last thirty hours had been spent arguing with herself – going back and forth as to whether Aria T'Loak could possibly be her father. Amidst more tears than she would have cared to admit, she questioned whether her mother could have ever loved Omega's self-appointed ruler. If Aria ever felt anything at all for her mother, how she could bring herself to have her killed decades later? That of course brought about the gut-wrenching thought that there had been no love involved in her conception. More than anything, Myke desperately wanted Liara's information to be wrong.

"How much?"

Realising someone was speaking to her, Myke looked over her shoulder to find a Salarian leering at her. He was wearing a finely cut suit, indicating that his business interests had probably come through the war intact.

"What did you say?" Myke asked. She wasn't interested in being polite.

"How much for you to sit in my lap and rub your tits all over my face for half an hour?" he explained, lips peeling back into a wide grin. "Perhaps a little something more later on?"

"Even if that experience was for sale, I wouldn't sell it to you," she replied tersely. She surprised herself with the steely edge to her voice. "Now scram, before I drop a singularity on you, lizard face."

"Alright, alright. I was just asking!" he protested, lifting both hands in surrender as he backed away. "You learn to be direct when you're trying to cram as much sex as possible into a short life. Sorry!"

Myke watched the Salarian disappear into the crowd so quickly that he might as well have been wearing a tac cloak. Although entirely forgettable, the brief exchange had served to make her blood pump rapidly through her veins. Walking into Afterlife had been a start. This was the final push she needed to make her move.

Her momentary courage almost deserted her as she ascended the first stairs toward the eyrie and found herself facing the same batarian who had taken her to Aria in the first place. Hanek regarded her without sympathy as she stared up at him like a hopeful supplicant.

"I need to see Aria," she demanded, her voice quavering slightly.

The batarian smirked. "Well you're shit out of luck. Aria doesn't need to see you, squirt. Now piss off."

Myke responded by closing the gap between them in a heated rush of blood to the head. She was about to give him a piece of her mind when he placed a hand on the centre of her chest and gave her a shove. There wasn't a great deal of force behind it but it was enough to unbalance her slightly built frame. She lost her balance and toppled backward to the floor, landing hard on her back. Pain arced through her body and her eyes stung with unshed tears. She dragged herself up into a sitting position, clutching at her wounded shoulder.

"Does Aria pay you to push people down the stairs?" Myke snarled. "I bet it's a really rewarding job."

Hanek growled as he started toward her. "She also pays me to pummel sense into idiots. You want that?"

"Go ahead," Myke challenged. "I hope it makes you feel better about your pathetic excuse for a job."

"Hanek!" A shout from above drew both their attentions.

When Myke lifted her gaze, she saw Aria herself standing on the stairs behind her hired thug. The Queen had actually deigned to descend from the heights on her account.

"Let her up," Aria continued. "I'm in the mood for something amusing."

As Aria disappeared back to her eyrie, Myke took her time finding her feet. Now that the conversation was happening, she felt terrified at the prospect. Hanek regarded her with unconcealed contempt as she passed, even going so far as to give her a shove up the stairs when she was dragging her feet.

The young asari expected to find Aria surrounded by a handful of bodyguards as per usual. Instead she was stunned to find that they were alone. As she came to a stop and tried to settle into a determined pose, Myke knew that being alone with Aria was not a good thing. She stubbornly tried to match Aria's intimidating gaze, but lasted only a matter of seconds before she was overwhelmed and forced to look at the floor instead. The single overwhelming thought running through her head was that this was the worst idea she'd ever had.

"You've got precisely thirty seconds to amuse me," Aria began. "You can start by explaining why the fuck you are here."

"I heard something," Myke mumbled. "A rumour…"

Aria smirked. "I don't deal in rumours, gutter rat. I deal in eezo, credits and lives. The latter being the only one of the three that is dispensable. Now speak up, or I'll make you squeal like a baby varren on a roasting spit."

"You knew my mother," Myke managed. She hated herself for sounding so pathetic.

"I've known a lot of people, but Omega is a big place. What makes you think I knew her?"

Myke risked a quick glance up. The smirk was still there. Aria was playing with her like a pet pyjak on a leash. No doubt her time was running out. The Queen of Omega would no longer be amused and she would find herself dumped into an eezo vat without ceremony. The difficulty with this was that, despite all the upheaval, Myke was quite enjoying her life at present. Somewhere, she found a tiny scrap of courage. "You know why, T'Loak. You knew her. You _know_ me."

For a heartbeat the music stopped and everything else along with it. As though a deathly silence had descended on Afterlife. The eye of the storm. Myke stood in the middle of it all. Blood pounding in her temples. Still too terrified to look up at the Queen of Omega.

The beat passed and the music resumed in a frantic, pulsating rush. It was as though it heralded Myke's very messy demise. Throughout it all, Aria did nothing except sit in her own silence – coiled and ready to strike. Myke could not bring herself to look up again, nor could she speak despite needing an answer. Almost absently, Myke wondered what Shepard's reaction would be upon finding out that she was dead. Liara wouldn't care of course, but Myke hoped that Shepard would. The thought that one person would mourn for her made her feel slightly better about dying.

"You don't really favour her do you?" Of course it was Aria who spoke first. Her throaty, rich voice sounded out clearly despite Afterlife's pulsing soundtrack. Everything else was dull and quiet in comparison. "Perhaps a little in the eyes, but nothing else. It did not matter where – Omega, Thessia, Illium – Leda's beauty was unmatched. I wouldn't feel bad if I were you, being plain is a mercy. Beauty simply means that everyone wants you. In the end, it destroyed her."

Myke had no images of her mother, other than the slowly disintegrating ones that she kept locked tight inside her. Hearing Leda spoken about by Aria T'Loak of all people drove Myke to bring her gaze back up with renewed defiance. "You're the only one who destroyed my mother. You murdered her," she spat. "You don't get the right to talk about her."

A sharp laugh escaped Aria's throat. "Why is it that children can only see their parents in a perfect light? You know nothing, Kasos, absolutely nothing."

"Then enlighten me, you bitch!" Myke demanded.

Aria sat forward eagerly. A delighted cruelty came across her features. "Do you really want me to unravel your childish fantasies?" Without giving Myke time to answer, she continued, "Leda Kasos was undeniably beautiful, but she was also one of the most calculating individuals I have ever met." Aria chuckled, of course including herself in that list. "She was a merc, both born and bred. You name it she did it all…and all of it without a hint of remorse. She wore her past with pride. By the time she arrived on Omega she had carved a bloody swath across the Galaxy for over two centuries. I knew exactly who she was, what she was capable of, and yet I wanted her regardless."

Aria's face brightened, no doubt recalling the pleasure. Myke felt slightly sick.

"The whole time we were fucking she laboured under the mistaken impression that she was in control. That I was a slave to her beauty like so many others. The whole time she schemed with my enemies, paid off my supposed allies. Everything your mother did was done with the sole aim of coming to power on this station. Everything…and that includes whelping you, her ultimate insurance policy. She thought that you would strengthen her hold over me, leading me to simply bend over and offer my ass to her, along with my entire empire. Well, I didn't give a fuck about some little mercenary spawn. She found that out the hard way. It was Leda that found herself ass up, right before I squeezed the life out of her with my own fucking hands."

"That's not true," Myke whispered with a determined shake of her head.

"Of course it's true you insipid little cunt," Aria hissed. "What the fuck do I have to gain by lying to you? Other than making you cry. You are going to cry now aren't you? Well piss off and do it someplace else. I can't stand snivelling."

The realisation that Aria was actually going to let her leave unscathed should have brought about a sense of relief, but Myke felt only hollow. Before entering Aria's lair, she had been expecting only confirmation. What she had ended up with was even worse. Thoroughly beaten, she backed away from the older asari. She risked turning her back on Aria only when she knew the stairs were just behind her. Her foot poised above the first one as a thought struck her. _Just leave, you fool!_ Myke tried to stop herself, but the thought dug in its claws and wouldn't let go.

"You're Aria T'Loak," Myke said quietly, suddenly looking back over her shoulder. She challenged Aria with one last, defiant stare. "How the hell would someone use you as a sire without your permission? You wouldn't open yourself to that level of vulnerability. Not to mention the fact that you've spent the last fifty years protecting me." Myke drew in a deep breath before continuing, "Despite what she tried to do to you…you loved her."

Myke thought she saw a flicker of something – surprise, anger, or even loathing - pass across Aria's face in the moments before she turned away. However, she did not want to stay to face the repercussions of her words. She fled, taking the stairs two at a time in her haste. Hanek made no move to stop her as she brushed past him and continued running through Afterlife. Myke was careless as she forced her way through the throngs, not even pausing to apologise to those she knocked down. At every moment she expected Aria's retaliation, a gunshot to the back of her skull or to have her feet knocked out from beneath her. She exited Afterlife unscathed. The scent of safety could not convince her to stop running.

Her legs carried her not to her own apartment, but Shepard's. Although Myke knew that Shepard would not expect an apology, she felt a desperate need to offer one. She had behaved like a child over the past few days – from the angry denial of her parentage to isolating herself from her only friend. Confronting Aria had been a colossal mistake and she fervently wished that she could go back to remembering her mother the way she had previously. In her memory, Leda Kasos was depicted as being kind and a loving mother who did not want her only daughter to become a mercenary. Myke slumped against a nearby wall as she tried to make sense of reality. Had it been protection because she was loved, or protection because she was Leda's bargaining chip?

Myke had not moved from this position some ten minutes later, at least not until she heard the door open beside her. She had hoped it was Shepard, but when she turned her head she found only the cool blue eyes of Liara T'Soni.

"Why did you have to tell me about Aria?" Myke demanded, unable to keep from welling up as she asked the question. "Is it because you want another reason for me not to see Shepard? Because you can convince her that I'm working with my father?"

Liara shook her head. "No. Shepard can make up her own mind on whom to trust."

"As you have," Myke pointed out.

"We are asari," Liara replied diplomatically. "The art of subterfuge is ingrained in our blood. By extension we are suspicious and slow to trust."

"You didn't trust me even before you found out Aria was my father." The observation was simple, but it was also the extent of what Myke could deduce from Liara's words. Beyond the thinly veiled hostility, Myke had always found the other maiden difficult to read.

"Would you if you were in my position?" Liara asked with an arched brow.

The only response for several moments was silence. Myke could no sooner imagine herself being a highborn Thessian maiden than she could imagine herself as a gung-ho commando. All she knew was that while other asari had subterfuge, she had honesty. Still, the whole fucked-up situation with her father had since made her realise that it wasn't honesty that kept someone alive, it was power. Honesty was far more likely to get you killed.

"No," Myke replied with a small shrug. "I don't know. But I don't have anyone to lose. Or at least, I didn't before..." A small sigh escaped her lips. Her attempts at winning Liara over faltered. She'd tried, but it was time to admit that she simply didn't have the words to explain to Liara exactly how much she cared about Shepard. At least not in a convincing manner. She stared at Liara hopelessly. "Where is this supposed to end, T'Soni?"

Liara moved closer. She lowered her voice. "Where do you want it to end? I can get you off Omega and provide you with more credits than you can imagine. Enough to last you another nine centuries, to buy you a more than comfortable life anywhere you choose."

Another silence. Myke tried to wrap her mind around the fact that Liara was actually trying to bribe her. On one hand she could have laughed at the absurdity that anyone would actually try to bribe someone so insignificant. On the other she was incensed to think that her friendship with Shepard might be ended so cheaply.

"I will not be bought!" Myke replied with a sudden vehemence. "I take you up on that offer and I'm no better than a fucking merc."

"Your mother was a mercenary," Liara reminded her.

"I'm not my mother," Myke scowled. "And I'm sure as hell not my father."

"Who are you then?" Liara asked quietly.

"What? Who am I? I'm…I don't know!" Myke grimaced with frustration. "Did you know who you were at ninety-six?"

Liara shook her head. "No, I did not. I am…much changed from the maiden I was at ninety-six." To confuse Myke further, she eventually managed a small smile. "You should come inside. You look as though you have not eaten in days, and Shepard will welcome the distraction from her sick bed…or I will welcome having someone else to entertain her. She is one of the worst patients I know."

"Shepard’s sick?" Myke's jaw dropped. "When…how? Is she going to be okay?"

"It was not pretty, but it takes more than a bout of flu to take her out – you just need to ask Cerberus…or the Reapers." Liara's eyes actually sparkled with mirth as Myke looked on.

The younger asari shook her head in disbelief. "But…that whole offer? Getting me off Omega. The credits. You were bluffing?"

"Of course." Liara nodded. "Forgive my duplicity, but I wanted to see how you would react."

"And I passed?" Myke asked nervously.

"You reacted as a friend would," Liara said as she made her way back inside.

Myke grinned. The nightmarish conversation with Aria was already a distant memory. No doubt it would rear its ugly head in the future, but for the present she was content to simply be Shepard's friend. "You know, a part of me was kind of tempted," Myke admitted wistfully as she followed Liara. "A luxurious pad on Illium, somewhere overlooking the beach. I'd be surrounded by half naked maidens attending to my every need…"

Liara looked over her shoulder with a disapproving frown and Myke coloured immediately.

"I'm just having you on! Goddess, lighten up a bit, T'Soni."

 


	28. Cheerleader Fillets

**Mindoir, Attican Traverse**

The gentle aroma of nature permeated the air. A soft scent, eerily reminiscent of pine, wafted on the breeze. Miranda Lawson stood, poised and still, beneath a copse of trees. It took her a few moments to realise that she was filled with a sense of appreciation. For just a moment she claimed the serenity offered by closing her eyes. She drew in a deep, invigorating breath. Her senses hummed, almost joyfully. In that space, it was easy to forget that a wider galaxy – with all its schemes, tribulations, and absent lovers – even existed. A subconscious smile ghosted her lips.

A twig snapped. Her eyes opened. Reality slapped her in the face in the form of Jack Zero's jeering expression. Miranda merely tightened her lips in response as the other woman sauntered past her. She then followed without saying a word. Jack led her through into a small clearing. Seemingly satisfied with her choice of location, she then began stripping her jacket off. Although Miranda was a willing accomplice, she hesitated in doing the same. She had already run through the whole scenario in her head, asking herself dozens of times whether she had lost her mind. The only conclusion that she could reach was that she probably had.

"We sparring or what?" Jack demanded impatiently. The smaller biotic tossed her jacket to the ground and stretched her arms in an exaggerated fashion as she circled Miranda. "Because I sure as hell didn't come up here to admire the view."

"It's nice up here," Miranda replied, ignoring Jack's question. "Peaceful."

Jack's expression twisted into one of pure scorn. "You're shitting me right? We're not here to look at the fucking trees. You were worried about me kicking your butt in front of the grunts-" She spread her arms in a wide gesture "-so we're here. Quid pro quo, Cheerleader."

"We are sparring, Jack," Miranda replied in an even tone.

Although Jack continued to goad her incessantly, the words no longer had their intended effect. Their verbal sparring sessions became almost a non-event, with Miranda relying on the simple tactic of restraining her temper. It didn't stop the ex-convict from trying, but the only rise Jack was able to earn was a grinding of teeth or faint tightness around Miranda's mouth. Although she would never admit it, being in Jack's company was almost bearable.

With a smooth, almost unconscious movement, Miranda peeled off her own outer layer. Unlike Jack, she folded her jacket and placed it purposefully atop a large rock. As she turned, Jack uttered a low whistle. Miranda didn't react at first. Her thoughts shifted to the natural assumption that the other woman was making some statement about her tits. It was a common enough reaction. Nothing to do with vanity, just fact. She also wouldn't put it past Jack to wind her up in such a fashion.

"Looks like someone filleted you real good, Cheerleader," Jack commented in an amused drawl.

Miranda had to process the comment before realising that her assumptions were wrong. Jack was staring at the ugly, raw scar that trailed down much of her right arm. She stared at the scar herself. It was bare to the world, or at least to Jack, like it was something she was proud of. All her prior vigilance had been eroded by a few minutes of nature's potent scent. Half a dozen lies flitted through her mind, all falling short in terms of anything that would stand up to Jack's scrutiny.

"It's nothing," Miranda replied curtly. She shifted her stance, adopting Jack's impatience. "You ready?"

Jack folded her arms across her chest. The movement mirrored the contemptuous expression on her face. "I wouldn't call that 'nothing.' Someone sliced you open like a ripe fruit and you weren't able to get it treated properly. Alliance docs would have left barely a trace, your back-alley surgery means you're gonna be wearing that scar on your pasty white skin for the rest of your life. Something stinks here. Kinda smells like you were helping with someone's dirty work, something that you wanted to keep from the Alliance brass badly enough to scar yourself."

It required a concerted effort to keep from scowling, but Miranda forced a bored look onto her face. "So what if you're right? Are you going to tell on me, Jack?"

Jack stalked forward several, heated steps. "After all we've been through, you think I'd rat you out?" she demanded angrily. "Fuck you, Cheerleader. I may hate your stupid bubbly ass, but we are part of a family-" Jack's lips curled momentarily into a sardonic smile "-a pretty fucked up family, but it still means something to me. All I want to know is whether whatever you've done...whether you, are a security risk to my command."

Miranda remembered everything about that rain soaked morning. How the ill-fitting, borrowed armour had chaffed uncomfortably as she moved. The violent thrill of actual combat. A kill-or-be-killed game that she had played all too many times before. It was a game that she hadn't missed. Yet as she carved her way through Alliance soldiers, her supposed comrades, Miranda had not been able to contain the righteous anger she felt at the thought of Shepard in captivity. Although the rage gave her strength, it ruined her focus. Her usual awareness and caution in combat could have saved her from the heavy calibre round that smashed through her shields and into her arm. It did save her from giving into the blinding pain that ripped through her body and the nausea that bubbled up when she saw her own bone protruding from her broken flesh. The pain was further diminished when she saw Mack running with a limp form cradled in his arms. Miranda barely recognised the woman he held as her former lover, but in that moment she knew that everything had been worthwhile.

As she met Jack's challenging stare with an unwavering expression of her own, Miranda held no regrets about her actions - even the fact that she had kept Ashley in the dark. A part of her wanted to deliver a vehement no in answer to Jack's question, even to slap the demanding expression off the other woman's face. What stopped her was knowing exactly where the question originated. Jack needed an answer for the purest of reasons - she was trying to protect the men and woman under her command. Miranda wouldn't give up the fact that Shepard was alive, not even in return for her own life, but she also found herself unable to look Jack in the eye and blatantly lie to her.

"I don't know. Probably not," Miranda replied in a tight voice.

"Probably? I don't deal in probable's and you know it," Jack replied.

"A Captain named Alves might know something," Miranda admitted with a sigh.

Jack's thin eyebrows shot upwards. "Alves? As in fucking Cristiane Alves?"

"You know Alves?" Miranda wasn't sure why she was surprised. She already suspected that Alves was the type of person that made sure everyone knew about her. And ex-Normandy crewmembers were no doubt top of her shit list.

"Bitch gives me the creeps," Jack said with a slight shake of her head. She looked up and caught the surprised that flitted across Miranda's face. "Don't look at me like that. Shit scares me...occasionally. Especially that bitch...and all of those other fuckers in charge."

"If you want me to leave-" Miranda began.

Jack rounded on her, fists clenched. "Did I say I fucking wanted you to leave, Lawson? Just because you've been stirring up some kind of shit doesn't mean I'm going to leave you high and dry." She drew in a breath and calmed slightly. "Just promise you'll give me a heads up if the shit hits the fan. Why the hell are you looking at me like that?"

"You called me Lawson," Miranda said with the hint of a smile.

A cough escaped Jack's throat. "Bullshit." She stalked across to a nearby rock and gave it a solid kick before sitting down. Jack scowled, as though Miranda was solely to blame for some heinous crime. "Just because I said all this shit about us being family, doesn't mean I hate you any less, Cheerleader."

"I had absolutely no intention of thinking otherwise," Miranda replied. She propped one hand on her hip when she realised that Jack had no intention of moving from her perch on the rock. "So, I thought we were sparring?"

"You killed my buzz," Jack muttered.

"How?" Miranda asked as she watched Jack pick at a clump of lichen with her fingernails.

"You made me think about shit," was the terse answer.

Following a short deliberation with herself, Miranda folded her legs beneath her and simply sat in the warm grass. Jack glanced up for a moment, before refocusing her attention on the stubborn lichen with renewed intensity. In no hurry to make the other woman talk, Miranda resumed her earlier enjoyment of her surroundings. The soft blades tickled the bare skin of her arms as she straightened her legs in front of her and leaned back. Despite the smell of pine, her thoughts drifted back to Alberta - to damp leaves, sweat, and blood. From the moment Hannah Shepard had helped her into the shuttle the adrenaline wore off, replaced by an intense, nausea-inducing pain that left her short-tempered and emotional. It had taken every effort to keep from disgracing herself by collapsing into sobs when she spoke to Shepard. After believing she was dead for months, the relief at finding her alive (and mostly intact) was palpable. Miranda had received sporadic messages from Liara since, but they were all strictly business.

_I guess Liara is under the impression that I'm not interested in simply hearing how people are doing_ , Miranda mused, feeling a twinge of despair. It hardly surprised her. The facade she'd built around herself had been eroded over the years, but apparently not to the point that she was someone to 'chat' to. _It's not like I can simply place a vidcall to Omega and chat to someone who's supposed to be dead._

"Why are you here?"

Jack's sudden question interrupted her internal musings. Miranda glanced up to find the other biotic with a challenging expression on her face. "Pardon?"

For once, Jack didn't pounce on her old-fashioned manners. "Why the fuck are you here? On Mindoir? Slumming it in the fucking Systems Alliance Navy?"

Miranda's lips parted and she let out a gentle exhale while her mind whirled, trying to come up with an answer that meant something. Her reasoning had seemed perfectly clear at the point of enlistment - even in the face of Ashley's wrath. However now her desire to make a difference had been buried beneath her and Jack's animosity and the much larger problem that was eroding everything the Systems Alliance stood for.

"To be completely honest...I don't know anymore," Miranda admitted. "I've known for some time that the Alliance and I have a serious difference in opinion regarding the future of humanity."

Jack snorted, still staring down at her hands. "Tell me about it. I'm sure as hell not going to war again against anyone, not after the shit I've seen over the past few years. I try to imagine fighting against my friends - Grunt, Garrus, Tali - and I can't picture anything other than fighting beside them. Hell, I wouldn't even fight against you, how am I supposed to fight against someone I actually like?"

Jack's gaze suddenly jerked upwards. The vengeful expression gave everything away before she opened her mouth. Although her entire body tensed in preparation, Miranda forced herself to remain calm in the face of the inevitable tirade.

"It feels like fucking Cerberus won." With a vigorous shove, Jack propelled herself from the rock. Her movements were agitated as she stalked towards Miranda. "No wonder you're sitting there with a smug look on your face."

"Let it go, Jack," Miranda replied in an uncompromising voice. She was tired of fighting with the other biotic, tired of continually being reminded about her past. Despite what the organisation had become, Miranda did not view her time with Cerberus as a mistake. For all the lives they had ruined, their support had allowed her to save lives...and, in one case, even save someone who was dead.

Jack raked an angry hand through her hair. "I've fucking tried, but I just need to look at you and everything comes back-"

"I had nothing to do with Pragia-"

"Shut the fuck up about fucking Pragia!" Jack snapped vehemently. "Can't you see I'm trying to be constructive here?"

Miranda uttered an incredulous snort. "No...not really."

"Well not all of us had a Daddy who spent millions on our education. Cerberus was more interested in teaching me to rip shit apart than hold a proper conversation," Jack admitted snidely.

It was difficult for Miranda to ignore the quip about her father. Although she couldn't equate her childhood with Jack's, it wasn't a stretch to draw parallels between the two. They'd both been manufactured for a certain purpose, by men who had cared nothing about them as individuals. It just happened that Miranda's personal hell had been disguised as a life of luxury. Had she failed, or proven to be unfit for purpose, then she would have been disposed of without emotion. Indeed, in the months before fleeing her father's house Miranda had sensed that her time was running out. She pushed all of this to the back of her mind as she concentrated, not unsympathetically, on the agitated woman in front of her.

"What are you trying to say, Jack?" Miranda asked quietly.

Jack met her gaze in an unnervingly direct manner. "I don't wanna be surprised when the shit hits the fan. If...when everything goes tits up, I wanna be on the right side. I want people around me I can trust, not a bunch of goons likely to shoot me in the back."

"You want out of the Alliance?" Miranda deduced.

"I didn't fucking say that." Jack shook her head. "If everyone jumps ship then the fuckers in charge have got free reign to do whatever the hell they like. The bullshit they're spouting? I'm gonna make sure people know its bullshit...or at least those under my command."

"Subversion?" Miranda cocked an eyebrow. "I wholeheartedly approve."

Jack's shoulders relaxed somewhat. One corner of her mouth even twitched upward into the barest of smiles. "You're with me?"

"I've got your back," Miranda answered with a determined nod.

The smile broadened for a moment as Jack reached out a hand to help Miranda to her feet. "Yippy kay yay," the petite biotic said in an almost cheerful voice. She eyed Miranda suspiciously. "You're not going to fucking hug me are you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Miranda replied hastily. If she was being completely honest with herself, the thought had flitted through her mind for a split second. However, it had disappeared following thoughts of Jack smearing her across the clearing in the resulting outburst.

"Good, because I still hate you. I've just discovered a couple of things I hate more - like war...and that twat Kessler."

"On that we can agree," Miranda responded. The two of them fell into step as they made their way back towards the base. "I can think of innumerable things I would rather be doing than fighting."

Jack snickered derisively. "Like making perfect babies with Captain Perfect? Excuse me while I barf."

Miranda sighed. "I really haven't missed you, Jack. Not one iota."

* * *

 

**Erinle, Osun System**

Ashley Williams was uncomfortable. From the soles of her non-regulation boots all the way to her un-helmeted head. She scuffed the toe of one of her boots against the lip of a paving stone that had worked its way lose, kicking and scowling at it as though it had somehow offended her. In truth, everything about this damn place offended her. Simply standing in the midst of its unwashed citizenry made her feel filthy.

Despite her seemingly obvious boredom, Ash remained the consummate marine. Still prodding at the stone, her attention remained fixed on a busy thoroughfare a dozen or so metres from her position. If someone had called for a parade of the worst sort of scum imaginable, it would have resembled the view in front of her. Mercs, scavengers, whores and all manner of unsavoury individuals that characterised virtually the entire Terminus Systems. Ash didn't want to generalise, but when it came to this part of the Galaxy she couldn't be bothered to be open-minded.

Almost an hour earlier, Captain Kurin and one of her commandos had entered the establishment. Kurin had reassured her it would be a quick meeting with a contact. Now Ash was almost at the point where she had to decide to move. She'd already loitered outside longer than any self-respecting agent ought to have, drawing possible attention to herself with each passing minute. Successive attempts to meander the street had only resulted in a bevy of propositions for sexual favours. She'd managed to discreetly break one wrist, but any more would draw further attention.

After what felt like an eternity, Kurin finally emerged. Ash had always found asari difficult to read, but even she could not fail to miss the commando's agitated body language. Not only was she clearly unnerved, she was now alone. Instinctively Ash reached for her side, feeling the reassuring chill of her Carnifex in its holster. Something told her she was going to need it.

Although she picked up on Kurin's urgency, Ash made her displeasure clear by giving the asari a cold look over her shoulder. The stare summed up an hours’ worth of discomfort, not to mention the barely suppressed resentment over having to defer command of the operation to someone else. Even though Kurin was decades, if not centuries, older than her, Ash had always found it difficult to trust a stranger. She'd done so in this instance due to her complete lack of knowledge of the remote rock of a planet on which they found themselves.

"You said five fucking minutes, it's been fifty-five," Ash hissed under her breath. "And where the fuck is-" She'd already forgotten the name of the second commando.

"By the Goddess!" Kurin cut the marine off with a curt whisper. She suddenly linked their arms together, drawing their bodies close. "I thought you were a professional, not a mewling infant!"

Even as Ash scowled, Kurin meshed their bodies together in a way that distracted from the fact they were arguing. In a matter of seconds she had both her arms flung around Ash - one around her shoulders, the other wrapped securely around her waist. Ash was now supporting most of Kurin's weight as she stumbled almost drunkenly.

"My contact didn't show," Kurin said in a low, barely audible voice. Moments later she let out an unexpected, high-pitched giggle. "We've got an unknown quantity tailing us. Essa and I split up to draw them off." She then commenced nuzzling Ash's neck in an intimate fashion, punctuated by further giggling that did not suit the gruff commando.

"What the hell are you playing at?" Ash growled.

"It's called subterfuge, Williams," Kurin replied, suddenly licking Ash's ear lobe. "Goddess, how did you become a SpecTRe?"

"I know what you're doing!" Ash replied grumpily. "I'm questioning why you need to do it."

She then felt Kurin twist slightly in her arms. Under the pretext of kissing her on the cheek, the asari stole a quick glance behind them. Playing along, Ash lowered her ear close to Kurin's mouth as she whispered that there were three of them - two Batarians and a Krogan. Ash felt a chill run down her spine. The Batarians she could handle in her sleep, the Krogan was another matter altogether.

They remained locked together in an awkward, stumbling embrace for several minutes. Other than their three pursuers, no one paid them any mind. Ash played her part reluctantly alongside the commando. Beneath her forced laughter her mind continued to work with stark clarity. The mission brief had been simple - rendezvous with Kurin's contact, determine whether his intel was legit and get the hell back to their ship. Instead the contact had probably sold them out to the highest bidder and Ash was reduced to playing one half of the worst comedy duo ever. Not to mention the fact that Kurin's lingering kisses on her neck were beginning to have an undesired effect despite the anger thrumming through her body. To say that she was in a foul mood did not even begin to describe her state. As soon as they made it back to the ship, Ash had every intention of relieving Kurin of command - forcibly if necessary. An undignified yelp escaped her lips as Kurin suddenly propelled her into a narrow alleyway. Ash was about to let her know it was a dead end when, with a surprising display of strength, Kurin pressed her into an alcove. There was barely enough time to utter a surprised gasp before Ash found herself on the receiving end of determined, fervent kiss that left her little space to move let alone breathe. Despite knowing it was another part of the ruse, Ash instinctively resisted the contact. She felt a sharp stab in her ribs as Kurin reprimanded her for her unwillingness.

_I'd rather take my chances with the Krogan_ , Ash thought as she tried to feign enthusiasm. Her feelings towards Kurin approached loathing, and yet her pent up desires urged her to give into the contact. Her body had already betrayed her, quickening in response to the asari's skilled ministrations.

A guttural cough suddenly interrupted her reverie. She cocked one eye open to find the trio of mercs standing nearby. All wore equally wide grins. Their combined bulk effectively blocked the alley.

_This is not going to end well_ , Ash thought as she eyed each in turn discretely. Their gear was the worn and well-used kind that usually belonged to the low-end mercs, the kind that did all the dirty work. Each wore a crudely painted insignia on their breastplates that she didn't recognise. To her credit, Kurin feigned indifference as she continued to play the part of an eager lover. Although Ash could have done without her sensuous, undulating gyrations against her.

"Fuck off," Ash addressed their pursuers in a bored voice. "Can't you see we're busy?"

"Well, we were hoping for an invitation to join you," one of the Batarians replied almost politely. "Asari are rare enough around these parts...and then we saw her with a human-" he made a grunt of appreciation "-let's just say that none of us has ever had the privilege. What'd ya say? It would be an experience you'd never forget."

_Of that I have absolutely no doubt_ , Ash thought - unsure whether to be revolted or flattered. "Sorry pal, neither of us do cock, so you're shit out of luck."

"I told you, Salo!" The Krogan thumped his Batarian companion on the back of his head so hard that he stumbled forward. "We should've stayed in the bar, we were on a role with those hanar!"

"You don't ask, you don't get!" Salo protested. "I've heard Earth females are easy." He inclined his head towards Ash and Kurin. "My sincere apologies for disturbing you. I probably don't need to tell you to enjoy the rest of your day."

With Ash staring at the trio incredulously, they simply turned and walked away. The Krogan was still clearly annoyed - demanding to know what idiot had said that human females were easy.

When Ash met Kurin's gaze, she found the asari wearing a broad smirk. "You have got to be kidding me. All that over a handful of horny aliens?" Much to her continued annoyance, Kurin seemed to be in no hurry to put space between them. It was only at that point that Ash realised the asari had somehow managed to undo her belt and slide her hand somewhere it definitely did not belong. "Could you remove your hand from my pants?"

The commando did not comply. "Why, Captain Williams? Are you afraid you might be enjoying yourself a little too much?"

"What makes you think I'm afraid?" Ash growled.

Kurin tilted her head to one side. An amused smile crossed her lips. "Perhaps it isn't fear then. A tinge of panic? If you enjoyed it, you can admit it."

"What makes you think I enjoyed it?" Ash demanded.

In response Kurin suddenly applied pressure with her fingers. The resulting gasp was impossible to stifle. It escaped Ash's lips in a heady, clearly audible rush of air. With a grunt of frustration, she forcibly extricated herself from the asari's clutches and swiftly redid her belt buckle. She had to ignore the fact that her fingers were trembling.

"It doesn't matter whether I enjoyed it," Ashley began walking away with purposeful strides. "What matters is the fact that my girlfriend will most certainly not like it." A sharp pang of guilt accompanied her thoughts of Miranda. _That wasn't cheating_ , Ash told herself firmly. _Was it?_

"Your girlfriend?" Kurin said, clearly surprised. She fell into step beside Ash as they left the alley. "I thought I had you all figured out, Williams. It appears that I was quite wrong." When her comment was ignored, she continued with what sounded suspiciously like sympathy, "How long have you been apart?"

Ash was hardly in the mood for conversation. She was frustrated in more ways than one. "Too long," she admitted. "Over four months."

"She must be a remarkable woman, to have captured your attention," Kurin mused, not noticing that Ash's mouth was set into a grim line, clearly indicating she did not want to discuss the subject. Mercifully, Kurin's omni-tool pinged. "It's Essa," Kurin said as she scanned the message. "She's located the contact."

_Thank fuck_ , Ash thought, grateful to have something else to focus on.

* * *

 

Their contact was an extremely nervous looking Salarian, even more frenetic than was usual for his species. His state probably had something to do with the fact that he was nursing a gunshot wound to his thigh. With Essa standing guard at the door to his rundown apartment, Ash and Kurin took a seat. Three decidedly dirty glasses were placed on the table.

"A drink, yes?"

The Salarian was pouring before Ash had a chance to refuse. While she ignored the generous measure in her own glass, Kurin knocked hers back immediately and accepted a refill. From the manner in which the asari winced as she drank, Ash had no intention of downing the stuff.

"Much obliged, Xeron," Kurin lifted her glass in appreciation. "Subterfuge always gives me a thirst."

From the manner in which she lingered over her words, Ash had no doubt as to what part of the whole damn mess she was referring to. She was in no mood to play nice as she placed an arm on the table and leaned her entire body forward. "Spare the pleasantries. We're here for info on the Reaper."

Xeron's already wide eyes goggled even further. Like a wounded puppy, he sought out Kurin. "Not very polite your companion."

"She has her moments," Kurin replied whilst staring at Ash. Eventually she focused on Xeron, who was now a very pale shade of green, and gave him an encouraging nod.

"Yes, yes, the Reaper. I've got intel. You'll be pleased," Xeron nodded, pressing his palms together in a supplicating manner. "However, I must insist that payment is discussed first."

Kurin answered by reaching into a concealed pocket in her leathers. She withdrew a credit chit and tossed it on the table. When Xeron reached for it eagerly, she slammed her hand atop it decisively. "Intel first."

Trembling with nervous energy, the Salarian busied himself with a hidden panel on the floor, continuing to speak as he did so. "A month ago, contracted by a merc gang. Used my services many times. Trust me. I don't ask questions. Everybody's happy."

"What exactly are your services?" Ash interrupted.

"Decryption," Xeron replied simply. It appeared to be all he had to offer on the subject until Kurin coughed. He continued reluctantly. "Breaking into high-level systems. Two decades spent working for STG. Got bored. Started accessing forbidden intel. Council. Anything. Caught. Convicted of treason. Sentenced to death. Reprieve given in exchange for working for the Council." He shrugged. "I'm old, not much time left. I agreed."

When he finally removed the panel, all that was inside was a thin datapad. With little fanfare, he tossed it onto the table between Ash and Kurin. The marine was faster, claiming it impatiently. A few vid files were all that was held on the device. Ash tapped the first one. The quality was poor and it took her a few moments to decipher the images. Her lips parted slightly as she recognised an all too familiar shape silhouetted against the darkness. As long as Ash lived, she would never forget the insectoid form of a Reaper. Even barely visible on the small screen, it still sent chills down her spine. The moving image then sharpened slightly. Ash could make out a myriad of what must have been massive cables anchoring it to an asteroid. She briefly noted the time stamp in the corner. It was dated just three weeks earlier. However, as uncomfortable as it was to stare at the thing, Ash couldn't see anything to fear. The Reaper appeared to be a lifeless hulk, exactly the same as all the others in the wake of the Crucible's blast. The only point of difference was that this Reaper appeared completely intact.

"It's just a hulk." It was Kurin that spoke. Ash hadn't realised that the asari was standing directly behind her. Kurin leaned in for a closer look. Her breath was warm on Ash's cheek when she spoke again, "This is what the Council was so worried about?"

"Second video," Xeron urged, wringing his hands together.

Ash brought up the second recording, already starting to feel a sense of relief that this had turned out to be a false alarm. That premature complacency was shattered the instant the recording began. No longer lifeless, the Reaper's appendages were unfurled. Tendrils of red light arced from its core - brilliantly bright even on the small screen. The image forced Ash back to those desperate moments during the battle for Earth, with Harbinger between their pitiful squad and the Crucible. On screen the Reaper unleashed its pent up energy. The datapad fell from her trembling fingers.

"Fuck," Ash whispered. "That thing's operational."

She didn't react when she felt the firm weight of Kurin's hand on her shoulder. Instead she sat staring at the frozen image of red light filling the datapad's screen. For some insane reason, Ash found herself thinking about the pathetic trio of mercs they'd met in the alley. She even smiled as she remembered their manners and their dejected expressions in the wake of her refusal.

"I fail to find anything amusing about this," Kurin said in a heavy voice. "Look at the time stamp. I saw enough of what those things can do on Thessia - even just one of them. We're going to need more ships...we're going to need a Fleet."

"No," Ash relied quietly. For some reason she was gripped with a sudden sense of purpose. After months of floundering around as little more than the Alliance's poster child, this was something she was meant to do. It was exactly the sort of high stakes game that Shepard would have played without qualm. Her hand was steady as she reached for the glass, downing its contents in one quick gulp. "This needs to be taken care of as quietly as possible. We report back to Tevos, but as far as she's concerned, we've got everything under control. We've got a plan."

Kurin stared at her in disbelief. "We've got no plan and only two ships."

Ash felt like grinning madly. "Not yet." She rounded on the Salarian with feverish intensity. "Start talking, Xeron. I want to know everything you know about this Reaper."

"And then what?" Xeron asked in a high-pitched voice.

A grin spread across Ash's face. She helped herself to Xeron's alcohol as she continued, "And then the fun starts."

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

It was a challenge to wrap her mouth around the entire parcel of food she held in her hand, but Mycea Kasos managed it - albeit in a decidedly ungraceful fashion. She sighed contentedly as her jaws worked around the steaming hot mouthful, ignoring the sticky sauce that was currently making its way down her chin. It was only when she had swallowed that she used her finger to swipe the sauce back into her mouth, lest she waste a drop. A second mouthful went the way of the first as she watched a decrepit ship lumber into a nearby berth. The fact that the vessel's origin wasn't instantly recognisable was enough to tell Myke that it was probably a pirate, but it also lacked any serial numbers or identifying marks save for crude letters slapped on the side. Myke's grasp of Batarian was poor at best - although it was far more likely that the ship's name was The Bloody Maiden as opposed to The Beautiful Flower. Whilst continuing to eat, Myke wondered what it would be like to leave Omega on one of the dozens of vessels that came and went every day. Half of her longed for it, while the other half was terrified at the prospect of leaving everything she knew.

A wayward dollop of sauce suddenly fell from her chin, landing squarely on her clothing. She scowled. Ordinarily such an accident wouldn't concern her, but the hoodie she wore was a favourite, a gift from Shepard. The garment was black and unremarkable save for a red and white stripe running down one sleeve, but Myke prized anything Shepard gave her - even an old hoodie shrunk during a wash cycle. As she attempted to mop up the mess with her hand, Mycea saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye. While she was the first to admit that her observational skills left something to be desired, she knew she was being watched – or perhaps it was because the hooded stranger no longer made any attempt at concealment. Her initial assumption was that Aria had sent someone to keep tabs on her. It was plausible enough until Myke reminded herself that she was worth little more than shit on a boot to the Queen of Omega.

_Or is that how you want her to think of you?_ Myke argued with herself. Aria was one of the few individuals she hated…and she hated the older asari with every shred of passion she could muster. It suited Myke to think that she was a piece of shit, because it was exactly how Aria made her feel.

The brief thoughts of her sire did not solve her problem. Other than Aria, Myke could think of no one who would waste their time watching her. Despite everything, she still thought of herself as an insignificant nobody. The young asari suddenly felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck. She was a nobody who just happened to be friends with the Galaxy's most famous martyr. Her latest mouthful was sitting in her mouth in a congealed lump. She swallowed and nearly choked, wishing she'd thought to buy a drink.

"I can hear you from here, mouth breather," Myke called out after managing to clear her throat. It was an optimistic bluff. She could barely see the figure's outline in the shadows let alone hear them breathe.

Myke risked turning on her perch, her food still clutched in one hand. A glance told her that the stranger was asari. The protuberances of head crests were distinct beneath the hood she wore, even as she stared out at the same view that Myke had previously been enjoying.

When a response wasn't immediately forthcoming, Myke grew impatient. Her food was growing cold and she couldn't bring herself to continue eating whilst being watched. "If you're one of T'Loak's mercs you can piss off now."

The asari turned slowly, deliberately. Myke almost dropped her food as she caught the full force of one of the most intense gazes she had ever seen. Beneath the dark hood, stone-cold eyes regarded her with impassive scrutiny. Seconds felt like hours. Myke felt as though her every thought, her very self, the sum of what made her an individual, everything was being judged in that one stare.

_Trust me to find someone even more terrifying than Aria T'Loak_ , Myke thought, gulping discreetly. The other asari's eyes narrowed and Myke quailed further. _Surely she can't read my thoughts? Can she? For Goddess' sake, grow a quad, Kasos!_ It took a great deal of willpower to square her shoulders and force a semblance of confidence into her expression. However any effort was utterly unravelled when the other asari closed the gap between them in three purposeful strides.

"The detritus of your meal still covers your chin," she announced suddenly. It was no surprise that her voice matched her visage – throaty, rich, and yet emotionless enough to send a chill down Myke's spine. She towered above Myke. Her lithe limbs were clad in an unadorned set of light combat armour. A hood left much of her face in shadow, save for brilliant, piercing eyes.

Myke blinked in disbelief. "You're standing there to tell me I have food on my face?" She dared to drag her sleeve quickly across her chin.

There was no trace of amusement in the tilt of the asari's lips. "I am looking for a human."

"Yeah, so?" Inwardly Myke was still cowering, but she attempted to sound bored. Unfortunately her voice came out with a distinctly high pitch. "Quite a few humans on Omega. Can't say that I know them all."

"It is my belief that you know the particular human I seek," the asari intoned sagely. She nodded toward Myke, indicating the sleeve of her hoodie. "Unless of course you stole that garment?"

Myke bristled at the insinuation. "I'm no thief!"

Warning signals peeled almost audibly between her ears. The realisation that the asari was looking for Shepard made her feel physically sick. Her mind started working rapidly, attempting to figure out a way to leave and warn her friend. However every scenario ended up with her being trussed up or pummelled senseless. With a sudden rush of blood to her head, she tossed her meal over the parapet and stood.

"You'll not find whoever it is you're looking for on Omega," Myke said adamantly. It was at that point that she wished she could use biotics. All she had were words, pitiful sounding words. "If you've got a shred of sense you'll book passage on the first ship out."

_Shit, I confront Aria and I think I can take on anyone_ , Myke thought as the other asari merely looked down on her as though she could squash her flat with a thought. The statuesque asari appeared several centuries her elder. In addition she was almost impossibly impassive in everything – her speech, her mannerisms. There was none of Aria's unbridled passion. This individual reacted to absolutely nothing, not even Myke's pitiful threat. Myke regretted wearing Shepard's old hoodie. It was just so damn comfortable!

"I admire your loyalty, child, but you should know that I can be exceptionally persuasive." The asari then lowered her voice. "You would do well to take me to Commander Shepard."

"Or what?" Myke demanded.

Blue eyes hardened even further. "I had hoped to avoid an unpleasant situation."

"You can avoid it-" As Myke answered, she folded her arms stubbornly across her chest. It helped to keep her hands from shaking "-by fucking off. Even if I did know where the hell this Commander Shepard is, I wouldn't tell some random asari merc."

The asari's response revealed the first hint of emotion Myke had seen creep into her stern features. She cocked her head ever so slightly to one side. For just a moment, a hint of sorrow flashed in her eyes. When she spoke again, her gaze had softened a fraction. Instead of appearing terrifying, she was merely intimidating. "Perhaps then, if you did happen to know where Shepard is, you could pass a message for me?"

"Unlikely," Myke replied, although her curiosity had been piqued.

"I believe that Shepard will see me."

The edge had disappeared from her voice. It was replaced by a quality that was difficult to place - with elements of severity tempered by sorrow, and an undercurrent of persuasion. Myke fought the sudden urge to blurt out everything she knew about Shepard. It was only then that she realised she was trembling slightly.

The other asari continued, "My name is Samara."


	29. The Answer lies between Conversation and Cocktails

**SSV _Tai Shan_ , Sol System Approach**

There were few things that Fleet Admiral Kessler enjoyed as much as a quiet moment with a steaming hot cup of coffee - observing large battleships was one, but quiet moments were much rarer. He was currently enjoying both, slurping the hot liquid with little regard for the way it scalded his throat. From the observation window of his quarters he could see SSV _Rainier_ and SSV _Eiger_ in close formation. He felt his chest swell slightly with pride. _Eiger_ was one of the SA Navy's newest vessels – lead in her class. Her keel had been laid down just weeks after the victory against the Reapers. No expense had been spared in equipping her with the most advanced technology available - taking advantage of mistakes learned during the Reaper War and the expertise of Cerberus defectors.

His lip curled into a sneer as he remembered the arguments against her construction. They had been weak at best, predictable. Arguing against the expenditure, bleating about Earth's limited resources being squandered on building machinery for war whilst people were starving and homeless. Kessler had very little time for such pathetic reticence. He wasn't about to stand around handing out rations while the rest of the Galaxy sniffed at the SA's borders and colonies. The war had gifted humanity with a prime opportunity, and he was about to let a bunch of bleeding heart politicians squander it.

Kessler had time to take one more sip of coffee before the silence was rudely interrupted by the irritating buzz of the intercom. He turned away from the window and tapped his private terminal. The face of his Yeoman filled the screen. She was efficient and pleasant enough to look at, even if her cheerful demeanour wasn't suited to that of a proper marine.

"Good morning, Shaw," he said crisply.

"Good morning, sir. There are several messages for your attention, although I have flagged none as urgent. You have a message from your wife, as well as another from Senator Hale. At my last count, that makes...thirteen messages in total from the Senator."

The next sip of coffee went down Kessler's throat like a lump of dirt. He hated politicians with an unrivalled intensity. Senator Hale had been making loud noises about democratic elections for several months. At first Kessler had been content to let him make a small amount of fuss. It was easy enough to ignore him and it was harmless so long as his words were falling on deaf ears. However lately it was becoming apparent that he had a following. Still small, but it was a following nevertheless.

"Shall I block him, sir?" Shaw suggested. "Or perhaps draft a personal rebuttal for your signature?"

Kessler set his coffee cup down. His knuckles drummed out a staccato beat on the edge of the table. A mere rebuttal would be as bad as fanning the flames of a fire. The beat continued as his mind worked. Hale was a deluded fool if he thought a civilian government capable of driving the same level of regeneration, or ambition. Humanity would descend into anarchy within months, and complete subjugation within years. He stopped drumming and dragged his fingernails against the unyielding surface. That wasn't going to happen. Not on his watch.

"No, Shaw. Leave it with me. I'll have someone else take care of Mr Hale." Shaw merely smiled and nodded in response. "No word at all from Blackheath?"

"None, sir. If you want I can-"

"No," Kessler cut her short. He pursed his lips. "I'll put a call through myself. Dismiss-"

"And your wife, sir?" Shaw interrupted.

Kessler let out a long-suffering sigh. "Send something from my personal account. Tell her I'm well and...make something else up, the sort of bullshit a woman wants to hear."

If Shaw was offended by Kessler's order, her expression betrayed nothing. She merely nodded. "Understood."

As soon as her image disappeared, Kessler initiated another communication. Given the distance involved, the connection was not instant. He resumed drumming his fingers. Even when it opened, he thought the vidlink was down as he could see nothing but darkness on the other end. The darkness was punctuated by a female voice uttering a series of harsh expletives. Eventually a soft blue glow illuminated the scene, revealing the extremely irritated face of Captain Cristiane Alves. Her hair was still tousled by sleep and she'd dragged a bed sheet up to cover her torso.

"Kessler? You do realise it's fuck o'clock down here?"

Kessler ground his teeth. Alves rarely put any stock in proper protocol. It was one of the most infuriating things about the woman. Something else moved in the background. Another form shifting on the bed. He caught a glimpse of long pale hair and the curve of a full breast. Revulsion was his instinctive response. _Too many dykes in this Navy_. Alves was a damn good marine, but her personal life was questionable at best, disloyal at worst.

"Am I keeping you from your sleep, Captain. Or something else?"

"Fuck you," Alves muttered, rising to her feet and taking the bed sheet with her.

The image on the screen suddenly changed, shifting away from the view of Alves' shrouded form and her sleeping lover to that of a pristine office. Several minutes passed before Alves reappeared, this time decently clothed in Alliance issue sweats with her hair bound away from her face. The damn woman had even kept him waiting to make herself a cup of coffee.

"Your report is six days overdue," Kessler said in a terse voice.

Alves appeared unconcerned, even going as far as to shrug in response. "My report is exactly the same as it was six days ago. Four subjects, three of whom have been stable for the past two months and...twenty-seven days."

"And the fourth?" Kessler pressed.

"He had to be restrained. He was trying to claw his own eyes out." Alves was nothing but matter-of-fact. "I think the Doctor will make a decision about putting him out of his misery today. Now that would have been something to report. As it is, I'm stuck here, training the damn monkeys and putting up with unnecessary shit from a civilian."

"Put up with it, Captain. The Doctor is one of our most valuable assets." Kessler was unmoved by Alves' complaint. "Even more so than you."

"She's a spoiled princess!" Alves replied venomously.

"You need to put aside your animosity," Kessler said pointedly. "In other matters, I have received several viable leads as to Shepard’s whereabouts." Alves' interest was clearly piqued as she sat up a little straighter. "Of course there is still the persistent rumour that she is on Thessia-"

"Fucking squids," Alves muttered. "What use is that? Short of painting myself blue, we can't get near the asari homeworld."

"New intel indicates Ilium as a possibility. We have received several reliable sightings. I've green lit an investigation," Kessler continued. "However, even more recently, rumours have surfaced that she may be on Omega."

Alves' eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Omega? You think Aria T'Loak would harbour Shepard?"

"T'Loak is unpredictable and there have been run-ins with Shepard in the past," Kessler explained. He wanted nothing to do with the so-called 'Queen of Omega.' However, the fact that she was sitting on the Galaxy's largest known deposits of eezo was a major problem. He cursed Cerberus for not putting her down while they had the chance. "We're sending infiltration units in the first instance. Our reach in the Terminus is almost non-existent and tied up in protecting our colonies."

Alves suddenly drove her fist down onto the table. Kessler couldn't see it collide, but he heard the resulting thud.

"What kind of game do you think we're playing here, Kessler? If you'd followed my original advice, we'd already have Shepard back in our grasp - or better yet, dead - instead of fuck knows where. I'd wager credits for Thessia - the bitch is probably surrounded by naked squids, laughing at us."

"Your advice was dismissed, Captain," Kessler replied in a tight voice.

"By a bunch of ignorant fossils! You and I both know that adhering to outdated military tenets is a waste of time. We have within our grasp some of her closest known associates - Williams, that crippled pilot, hell, she might even give a damn about Miranda Lawson and that psychotic ex-convict we've dumped on Mindoir. Start carving them up bit by bit and the sentimental bitch will come running-"

Kessler cut her tirade short with a sharp gesture. "We're the SA, Captain. We're not Cerberus and we're sure as hell not the fucking Batarians. We're above that. Do I have to remind you how much we need Shepard's allies on side? How do you think the public would react if we executed Ashley Williams?"

Alves was unfazed. "I don't think Williams is going to toe the company line, regardless of how many promotions or medals you throw at her. Do you even know where the hell she currently is?"

"The _Normandy_ was scheduled to take part in a flypast-" Kessler began, he stopped himself. "I don't know why I'm even arguing with a subordinate. We're going to make every attempt to solve the Shepard problem quietly. That's my final decision. I've already got plans for dealing with the recalcitrant Captain Williams."

"And if that doesn't work?" Alves pressed.

Kessler sighed. It was regrettable. Williams was a good combat marine but she would never be the sort of career officer the SA needed. "I'll have no choice but to admit her into the Blackheath programme."

The resulting grin on Alves' face was predatory.

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

An instinctive smile tugged at Liara's lips as the image on the vid screen sharpened. The familiar face of an old friend. No, more than that - family. Ashley Williams tried to return the gesture.

Although the marine captain's smile was sincere, it failed to hide the evidence of exhaustion on her face - dark circles around her eyes and an unhealthy pallor to her cheeks.

There was also a feverish intensity that Liara would never have expected to find on Ashley's face. If she had to guess, she would have said that something was driving Ash towards breaking point.

"You're a difficult individual to contact, Liara," Ashley said. "Anyone would think you didn't want to be found."

"Ashley."

In saying her name, Liara realised that the strings tugging at her emotions were caused by guilt. In all the months spent feeding Ashley intel and observing her through vid feeds like some sort of voyeur, Liara had never bothered to speak to her. The last time they had spoken had been the day of Shepard's memorial service. She had no real excuse for the silence. Secrecy was one. Her work kept her busy, but her schedule was largely self-determined. The real reason was that she had never been suited to the role of friend - a loner, lost in her own work for years at a time. It was still difficult for her to appreciate the relationships in her life.

Ashley was family. She deserved...more.

The appropriate apology would not emerge from Liara's lips, it was left to Ashley to continue, "It is good to see you."

Liara inclined her head politely, an apology of sorts coming via another small smile. Brief, insufficient. "I will ensure that you have a more direct means of contacting me in the future, although a dating site was inspired. Your ad was suitably intriguing for one of my agents to forward it to my attention."

"I'm actually kind of glad I can't take any of the credit," Ashley replied. "Traynor wrote that ad. I tried to make her post an actual one for herself. I think if I wasn't her CO, she might have decked me." She then bit her lip. "Do you think that was taking it too far? I mean, I'm her friend, but there's giving someone a little bit of stick and then there's harassment."

Liara found her guilt banished by the prospect of an actual carefree conversation. It felt normal. The sort of thing that was discussed over drinks. For a moment, she could forget who she was and what they were supposed to be doing. "You merely made a polite suggestion."

"I may have taken it past polite suggestion," Ashley admitted reluctantly. "There was definitely harassment." She let out soft groan. "I'm going to need to do the whole apology thing, aren't I?"

"Undoubtedly," Liara replied without pause for thought. For some unknown reason she was struck by the sudden urge to find a drink, take a seat and prop her feet up on the console whilst continuing the conversation. It was altogether ridiculous. Something she would never do, regardless of the weight of the Broker mantle hanging around her shoulders. However, it felt liberating to be a little foolish. "There was a time when Samantha was interested in Shepard and, although she would probably have denied it, Shepard was definitely paying attention."

Ashley's eyes goggled momentarily. "How did I not know about this?"

"You were unconscious in Huerta Memorial."

"I missed a hell of a lot of fun lying in that damn hospital," Ashley muttered.

Liara remembered that point in time as anything other than 'fun.' The pain of simply being around Shepard again had been exquisite torture. "We could have used you on Menae," she said. "You might have been able to stop Shepard before she leapt on the back of a charging Brute."

"Garrus told me about that," Ashley nodded, obviously smiling at the mental image. "The Skipper was never any good at realising something was a bad idea - especially in combat. It was obviously a thing though. She once tried to ride a geth Colussus." She continued quickly when she saw Liara raise her eyebrows in consternation. "It was on Antibaar, not long after Therum. Chakwas hadn't cleared you for duty. There was no one to rein in her behaviour. I was still a little scared of her and Garrus thought everything she did was awesome."

"I remember," Liara said softly. The passage of time had been relatively brief for an asari. She still remembered her first weeks aboard the _Normandy_ SR-1. She was confused and fearful, and not just as a result of being trapped in the Prothean force field for days. Her entire world had been thrown into turmoil. Being hunted by mercenaries. Her mother working with Saren. The blue-eyed human Commander who both terrified and intrigued her in ways she didn't understand.

With the onset of nostalgia, any trace of amusement had vanished from Ashley's face, replaced by an expression of sympathy that Liara knew she did not deserve. "How are you, Liara? Honestly."

No matter how hard Liara tried, a suitably bereaved expression would not materialise on her face. Her subconscious wouldn't let her lie. Instead she fixed in place a blank mask. "I am fine, Ashley. Thank you for your concern."

It didn't work. "Don't bullshit me, T'Soni. Or have you forgotten who you physically attacked after Alchera?" Ashley let out a visibly trembling breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ask you like that. I wasn't even going to bring her up. But it seems wrong not to."

"You miss her." Liara deftly shifted the focus back to Ashley.

The marine smiled grimly. "Every damn day. I'm continually reminded how much we need her. How much I need her. I was never cut out to be the one up front, making all the stupid decisions."

"She was very good at making stupid decisions," Liara commented. _She still is_.

"I suppose I should stop wasting your time," Ashley said, as though suddenly remembering why she had tried to contact Liara in the first place. "I may have made a stupid decision of my own. I need your help to make it a little less stupid. Less stupid, more brilliant."

Liara could have smiled at the earnest expression on the woman's face. She could have spent the next ten minutes convincing Ashley that she was brilliant in her own right, but Liara could already see a plethora of red lights flashing at her. Each one no doubt required her urgent attention. Suppressing the urge to turn everything over to Hannah Shepard to deal with, she focused on assuming the role of the Shadow Broker as opposed to a friend.

"What can I do for the Alliance?"

"Not the Alliance, the Council," Ashley corrected. "I'm acting in my capacity as SpecTRe."

"You accepted a SpecTRe commission? Now?" Liara was surprised.

Ashley sighed. "I wanted to piss the brass off so badly I didn't think things through. They wanted me to take part in a flypast, Liara. A flypast! Like a trained monkey. In hindsight the flypast would have been less likely to end in colossal failure, but that's what I'm hoping to avoid with your help." Ashley lowered her gaze for just a moment. "It's a Reaper...and it's active. I'm uploading the footage-"

"That is unnecessary," Liara interrupted swiftly.

Ashley glanced upward. Her surprise lasted barely a split second. "Of course you already know about the damn Reaper. Why would I even bother trying to tell you anything?"

"I would apologise," Liara said, a little unkindly. "But I was the one who passed the information to the Council."

A frown creased Ashley's brow. "I thought Xeron was the Council's contact?"

"So did the Council. Unfortunately, our friend Xeron sold the Council out to the Broker years ago, before I took over. I merely steered him back onto a nobler path."

"You could have come straight to me with the intel." Ashley was clearly irritated by what she perceived as a lack of faith.

The truth would anger the marine further, but Liara couldn't stomach another lie. "Honestly? I did not want it to be you. The likelihood was high that the Council would not seek you out, or that your duty to the Alliance would compel you to say no."

Ashley had never been good at hiding her emotions. Her features stiffened as she tried to restrain her temper. "Why?" The single word was curt, tight.

"Humanity needs you, Ashley. With Shepard...gone, they need you. Commandos, STG, for lack of a better word, they are expendable-"

"Expendable is the perfect word," Ashley interrupted. "It's exactly what you mean."

"Fine. I will say it clearly. They are expendable. You are not."

"What if I don't share your opinion?" Her anger was almost tangible, even through the vidlink. "I'm a grunt. Even though they've given me a title, a couple of promotions and command of the _Normandy,_ I'm still just a grunt, and this is exactly the kind of work I was meant for. I may not have a ship full of galactic badasses, but I've got good people. Kurin may be an arrogant bitch, but she's a damn good commando. We can do this, Liara. I can do this."

Liara knew there would be no further debate. When it came to obstinacy, Ashley had Shepard beat. Although her instincts were screaming at her to find some way to spoil the outcome, Liara knew it was unavoidable. "I warned the Council that this would need to be kept as covert as possible. If word escapes, even amongst the military, the resulting panic would be catastrophic."

"We're on the same page," Ashley replied quickly. "I've got a plan, but I'm going to need your help to pull it off. Can I count on you Shadow Broker?" At Liara's decisive nod, Ashley continued. "I'm uploading a list of what I need. Tell me now if you don't think it's possible."

It took only a split second and Liara had the requirements in front of her. Against her better judgement and her underlying fears, she found herself smiling. "There is nothing particularly challenging, the question is whether you think you can pull this off?"

Ashley bristled playfully. "I happen to be damn good at subterfuge, T'Soni!" For some reason her cheeks took on a slight red hue.

"This will not require subterfuge so much as - to quote a mutual friend - one hell of a quad."

"You know, I could use Wrex on this one," Ashley murmured thoughtfully.

"Ash..." Liara's voice trailed off for a moment. She fumbled for some way of convincing Ashley just how dangerous a mission it would be. Unfortunately, she could only think of comparisons with Shepard.

"I suppose this is the part where you reassure me by saying Shepard could have pulled it off in her sleep." Ashley beat her to it. "Hell, she turned up to a cocktail party full of the Galaxy's biggest crooks wearing nothing but a little black dress."

"Donovan Hock was a slimy fool with a small army of mercs and a military-grade Gunship. This is a Reaper, Ashley."

The marine actually had the gall to shrug as though they were exactly the same thing. "How long do you think it will take you to pull together what I need?"

"The actual items? A few days. Your other requirements – well, those cannot be rushed. A week, non-negotiable. I will not let you do this without the best possible preparation." Liara was adamant. "Another thing, you cannot use Xeron." She cut short the inevitable protest with a curt wave of her hand. "At the first scent of an opportunity he would sell you out without qualm. You need to surround yourself with those you trust implicitly. I have operatives who are suitable, but the perfect candidate is already onboard the _Normandy_ – Samantha Traynor."

"There's no way I'm taking Traynor anywhere near that damn Reaper!" Ashley replied vehemently.

"Nevertheless, she is the clear choice," Liara was unmoved by the protest. "Although I would suggest making that apology first – a sincere apology."

"Don't lecture me on how to apologise to my crewmembers, T'Soni." Ashley let out a long, irritated breath. "Shit. I need her don't I?"

"Samantha is eminently capable," Liara agreed. " Despite it being her suggestion, she didn't like the thought any more than Ashley did. She was determined that the plucky tech specialist take her place on the mission over a double-crossing ex-STG agent. "And she will have you."

Ashley snorted derisively but she didn't make an accompanying comment. Although her subsequent smile was clearly forced, her words made it sincere. "I don't know how to thank you for this, Liara."

"Just promise that you will try not to emulate Shepard in every aspect."

"No riding Brutes and no cocktail dresses – check."

Liara found herself actually laughing. It was a dry sound rattling in her throat, but a laugh nevertheless. "I will be in touch. Take care of yourself, Ashley."

"You too, blue. It means a lot that you're on our side. Don't be such a stranger in the future."

"I promise." Liara nodded.

When the connection to Ashley winked out, Liara did not return to her work. She stood with her fingers poised above the haptic display. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long...a couple of minutes."

Shepard made almost no sound as she left her position leaning against the door frame and stepped into the room. For a moment she stared at the now blank screen as though willing her friend to reappear. Only when the blankness was replaced with a lazily circling system map, did Shepard finally look away.

"She looked tired." Fatigue was a marine's constant companion, but Shepard couldn't dismiss it so easily. A knot of guilt sat restlessly in her gut. It ruined the quip she had been about to make about crashing Hock's party in a cocktail dress. The air suddenly felt very thick and the room even smaller.

"Liara-"

The tone in her voice gave away what she was about to say. "It is not an option," Liara cut in. Her own voice was savage in her desperation.

"Give me one good reason I can't go." A fight with Liara was the last thing Shepard wanted but she wasn't about to simply give up. " Instead she braced herself as Liara spun to confront her. It did not help one bit that Liara was achingly attractive when she was angry. _Not now, Ev!_

"One reason? I can give you several – any one of which would be enough to keep you out of that mission. Since you seem to have forgotten, let me remind about the woman I rescued four months ago-"

"Liara-"

"She was a husk! Little more than skin and bone." Liara spoke nothing but the truth, but it was still raw. As time passed, both of them had stubbornly tried to forget everything that had happened in the months while they were apart. "I am not surprised that your judgement is clouded by a perception of your own invincibility, Evan, but even you cannot come back from that so quickly." Her tone softened somewhat, but none of the intensity was missing. "One of the few things keeping you safe right now is the fact that you are supposed to be dead. If you go charging off to the Terminus Systems at the helm of the _Normandy_ , that anonymity will disappear."

"It's not your decision." The simple words hurt to say, almost as much as it hurt to watch Liara's expression change into one of utter helplessness.

However, short of physically restraining her on Omega, Liara had nothing but words. "Ashley needs to do this on her own."

"And if she gets herself killed? The crew... _my_ crew?" Shepard demanded.

"They are no longer your crew. And you will have to live with your decision," Liara replied, apparently unmoved by Shepard's protests.

Shepard shook her head stubbornly. "I couldn't live with that."

Liara sighed. "Have faith in Ashley. She has learned from some of the best. Nor did the Council send Captain Kurin and her commandos on a whim. They are an elite unit."

"So I just sit on my arse and wait?" Shepard asked sadly.

Liara shrugged. "If that is all you care to do. Or if you want to stop acting like a petulant child and contribute, you can help me to ensure that Ashley's mission is a success."

"Let's pretend I'm going to ignore your comment and play along." Shepard folded her arms across her chest. "You want me to help from a console?" Her dismissive snort was ruined when Liara shook her head disapprovingly. "You're about to tell me that you have more power behind that damn console than a whole flotilla of marines. Stow it, T'Soni, just tell me what we need to do before I change my damn mind."

* * *

 

Although the passage of time registered via her gnawing hunger and aching feet, Shepard found herself enjoying the challenges of Liara's work. Not the same as feeling the satisfying kick of an assault rifle against her shoulder, or the hum of an omni-blade, but oddly satisfying. Whether it would be enough, Shepard still couldn't say. The unease in her gut wouldn't dissipate completely. No amount of logistical brilliance would ever replace the actual thrill or combat, or her need to stand shoulder to shoulder with fellow marines.

As she worked, she stole a few quick glances across at her bondmate. Not to marvel at the speed at which she worked – as impressive as it was – but to observe the tension gradually leave her body. Shepard knew some element of fear would linger for days. She knew this because a part of her still hadn't decided not to go. An incoming comms light blinked, distracting her from disquieting thoughts. She waited for Liara to answer, as she usually did. Instead Liara merely glanced at it once and resumed working.

"Can you get that?" Liara eventually asked.

It sounded suspiciously like an order as opposed to a request. "I'm not the Shadow Broker. What the hell am I supposed to say?" Shepard protested.

"It is not an agent. It is your mother," Liara replied simply.

Shepard baulked. "All the more reason for me not to answer!"

Her protests fell on dead ears as Liara ignored her obvious discomfort. Eventually Shepard gave in, opening the link with a purposeful stab of her thumb.

Hannah Shepard's face filled most of the small screen but her attention was diverted elsewhere. "The logs are showing you've been working for almost eight hours, Liara. I know that's a blink of an eye to you, but I'm up to speed on Operation Screwdriver. I've got this for a few hours at least. Get some rest."

As Hannah spoke, Shepard was still trying to ascertain if the woman on the other side of the link was actually her mother. Hannah wore a faded Alliance sweatshirt. Her hair was tied back, away from her surprisingly relaxed face. She appeared younger and far happier than Shepard ever remembered seeing her.

"It's not Liara, Hannah," Shepard said, causing her mother to finally focus on the feed with a sudden jerk of her head.

"Evie?"

Shepard had difficulty understanding her reaction to seeing Hannah. For lack of a better word, it was odd. Her response ought to have been an expletive laden protest against being called 'Evie', but instead the diminutive hardly bothered her.

"Liara's right here though," Shepard continued. _And she can bloody well take over the damn conversation, starting now._ There was no response. No rescue. Awkward fidgeting ensued in the following silence.

"You're probably the best person to speak to actually." Hannah broke the silence. "Does Liara listen to you?"

"Not often," Shepard replied with a wry glance across at her bondmate. "But I can probably get her to call it quits for the day. In fact, she's yawning right now."

Finally, something caught Liara's attention – probably because it was a blatant lie. There had been no signs of fatigue and certainly no yawns. The resulting glare caused Shepard to grin.

"Everything will be in good hands. The equipment will be en route to the Normandy within the hour. Although one thing before you sign off, why Operation Screwdriver?" Hannah paused and frowned. "Or is the answer something that's going to make me wish I hadn't asked?"

The apprehensive expression on her mother's face led Shepard to laugh out loud. "No, nothing like that. Liara thinks it's my favourite cocktail. It's a long story."

"I'd like to hear it some time."

Hannah's expression of interest sounded so sincere that Shepard almost believed her. However stubborn memories resurfaced – memories from a childhood where Hannah had no time for her stories. "It's pretty dull. Me in a black dress, surrounded by some of the worst scum in the Galaxy and armed with nothing but a Phalanx strapped to the inside of my thigh – a regular night out on the town really."

While Hannah laughed in response, Shepard felt a light touch on her arm. Much to her astonishment, she found that Liara had actually moved away from the console without further cajoling.

"I will prepare some food while you speak to you mother," she suggested quietly.

Shepard's eyes widened in horror. "I don't want to speak to her!" she hissed under her breath. Unfortunately for Shepard, this moment did not fall into one of the 'not often' times when Liara listened to her. Instead her bondmate slipped towards the door. "Hey! Don't you need to talk to her?"

Liara glanced over her shoulder. "Hannah and I converse daily."

"About what?" Her demands fell on Liara's departing back.

"Don't worry, Evie, it's strictly Broker business. No embarrassing childhood stories," Hannah answered on Liara's behalf. "Liara occasionally shares information about you, but I don't press for more. I know how you'd feel about that."

"You're about thirty odd years too late to be taking an interest in my life, _Admiral_ Shepard." The cutting remark was undeserved, at least in the present. Shepard however was irritated. Hannah had called her Evie twice. Both had passed without rebuke. Plus the conversation was still going. Despite her reluctance, despite her lingering resentment, she was still having an actual conversation with her mother.

"You're looking well." Hannah tactfully ignored her daughter's comment.

"So are you." The reply sounded somewhat surly, but it was a pleasantry of sorts. _And I actually kind of mean it_.

"Despite the circumstances that led me to be here, I love this part of Earth. I didn't think that it was possible to find this sort of peace," Hannah said by way of explanation. Her eyes shone with a sort of excitement. "And other developments have happened as well. Mack and I-"

"Spare me the details, Hannah." Shepard couldn't interrupt quickly enough. "I really don't want to hear about your nocturnal activities. It's...good that you're happy though. He seemed like a nice enough guy." In all truth, Shepard could remember very little about Pericles Macklin other than his wiry grey hair and strange accent.

Hannah nodded in agreement. "He is an extremely nice guy. I think the two of you have a lot in common. Maybe, when all of this is over, the three of us can spend some time together?"

"What, and play happy fucking families?" Again, the harsh words slipped out instinctively. Shepard was torn between regret and pleasure at watching the crestfallen expression develop on Hannah's face. She dug the knife in a little deeper. "We were never a family. I was only ever an inconvenience or a disappointment."

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way," Hannah offered in a small voice.

_I'm a horrible person_ , Shepard thought wretchedly. Provoking her mother had lost its appeal. Although she still meant every word, she questioned her need to continually bring it up. In fact, she was tired of the past coming between them. "I'm sorry too. This family thing...I'd like to try." Being civil was difficult, even painful, but Shepard felt a sense of relief at seeing the smile on Hannah's face.

"I'd like that," Hannah replied.

_Thirty-four years and she waits until I'm a hunted fugitive to act like a mother_. Shepard didn't give voice to the thought. "It looks like you've succeeded in getting Liara away from work," Shepard added quickly. There was only so much playing nice she could handle for one conversation. She was on a roll, and didn't want to bring it all crashing down with another outburst. "I guess I'll speak to you again soon."

"Is that a promise?" her mother asked hopefully.

"Yes, Hannah..." Shepard paused. "It's a promise...Mum."

Downstairs, Liara was waiting for Shepard with a small array of piping hot dishes she'd heated. Without even bothering to sit down, Shepard picked up the nearest and began wolfing down the unidentifiable contents.

"Fanks," she said, struggling to get the single word out while her jaws worked feverishly.

"You are quite welcome." Liara was eating her own meal in a more delicate manner. "Although I did not think you liked tofu casserole?"

"Hate it," Shepard replied. Almost as soon as the words left her lips, she started laughing. Liara stopped eating and stared at her as though she was going slightly crazy. _It's entirely possible_. "My Mum called me Evie...twice," she attempted to explain but Liara only frowned even further. "I think I might have just enjoyed a conversation with her."

"You love her." Liara supplied the words Shepard had been missing all along.

It took Shepard some time to agree. "Yeah," she said the word deliberately. "I guess I do. Maybe one day I'll actually tell her."

* * *

 

Some hours later, fed, showered and largely content, Shepard and Liara tumbled into bed together. What started as an innocent goodnight ritual of whispers in the dark, playful kisses and instinctive touches soon became something else. Each kiss lingered and the touches became more intimate. By the time Liara whispered 'fuck me, Evan' into Shepard's ear, the conclusion was inevitable. The scant clothes they wore were dragged aside with renewed urgency.

It reminded Shepard of their time aboard the SR-1, when their fucking had always been hurried for some reason or another. A desperate moment stolen between crises or the last hour at the end of a twenty-eight hour shift.

There was no real reason for the haste, only the need to rediscover that same passion. Shepard felt the familiarity of both melding with Liara, and the warmth of her fingers filling her with a warmth she had sorely missed. When she drove her own fingers deep inside her bondmate, Shepard felt an agonizing ripple of pleasure pass concurrently through her own body. Their combined auras - blue for Liara, the red of the Catalyst residing within Shepard - danced around their writhing bodies.

Later, lingering in the aftermath of her orgasm and the quiet space offered by the meld, Shepard realised that she was almost ridiculously happy. She felt the same flurry of emotions from Liara, but also an underlying playfulness.

_Unexpected_. It was Liara's thought first, but Shepard had to agree. Neither had wanted to rush the challenges of reconnecting physically. In fact, the handful of times they'd had sex since Shepard's rescue had all felt premeditated. _Natural_ , the thought felt as though it originated from both of them at the same time. _It was nice_ \- Liara. _Nice?_ _It was fucking fantastic_ \- Shepard. Shared mirth followed before agreement from Liara. _How long can we stay in bed?_ \- Shepard. _Not long enough_ , Liara replied.

The rhythm of their combined heartbeats drove them both towards sleep. When the meld slipped away, Shepard expressed her disappointment via a small sigh. However, it gave her the opportunity to lean close to Liara's ear and whisper 'I love you,' aloud.

* * *

 

The incessant repetition of the buzzer almost completely ruined any joy that Shepard felt at waking up wrapped in Liara's arms. Almost. Liara shifted slightly, her irritation reflected only in a muffled protest at being woken. With the re-positioning of her bondmate's body, Shepard eagerly burrowed into a newly uncovered section of Liara's skin that was so incredibly warm it made her forget about the buzzing. Until it happened again. And again. She tried to block it out by trailing kisses along Liara's shoulder, until she reached the sensitive flesh at the nape of her neck. As Liara wriggled with pleasure, the buzzer sounded yet again.

"Are you going to answer that?" Liara murmured sleepily.

"Of course not," was Shepard's abrupt reply. She tried to refocus on what she was doing, concentrating on the act of eliciting more of those delightful sounds from Liara's throat. A few centimetres to the right and Liara let out a soft, lingering moan. Shepard's lips curled into a pleased grin. Their unwanted visitor then proceeded to jab the buzzer in a rapid, nonsensical code. She drew back from the naked flesh on display beneath her and scowled in the general direction of the door, as though somehow her displeasure could be transmitted across the distance.

"It's probably Mycea," Liara rolled over onto her back beneath Shepard.

"Which means it's really not urgent," Shepard insisted, quite content to drink in the sight of Liara's naked body beneath her. Her body responded predictably, as it should - a fierce heat in her belly and an ache between her legs. The brief time they'd spent fucking the previous evening had not gone near enough to making for lost time. The interruption was delaying her plans for a morning of languid sex. As long as she held Liara captive away from her work, she wanted to make the most of everything on offer. "Give it another minute. She'll get bored and go away."

A minute later, an extremely grumpy Shepard stomped down the stairs to answer the front door. She'd reluctantly donned a t-shirt and sweatpants, but left Liara with strict instructions to remain naked in their bed. She moved quickly, knowing that if a lengthy amount of time passed, she'd return to find Liara with a datapad in her hand. Or even worse, dressed and back at her console. After checking the security vid and seeing Myke's impatient expression, Shepard ripped open the door with every intention of giving the young asari a lecture on the protocols of visiting a friend.

"Woah." When the door opened, Myke was completely unperturbed by the glacially dangerous expression on Shepard's face. Instead she let out a low whistle. "You look like you've just crawled out of bed, Evan."

Shepard fought back the urge to smack the grin from her friend's face. "That's because I _have_ just crawled out of bed, Kasos," she said carefully through gritted teeth. "Out of my nice warm bed, with my bondmate., where I was, in all probably, about to have sex."

"Oh," Myke mouthed the sound slowly. The purple skin of her cheeks darkened noticeably. "Because that's what two people do when they're alone. Sex. Gotcha."

"Fucking fantastic. Now that we've got that straightened out, I'm going to go back to bed. I might think about calling you later."

"Hey!" Myke bristled noticeably. "I don't just sit at home and wait for you to invite me over you know. I got stuff of my own to do."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "What stuff?"

"Stuff that's none of your business." Myke actually pouted and, as annoyed as she was, Shepard had to resist the urge to smile. "Besides, if you must blame someone for ruining your mojo, blame her. I don't want me to be here anymore than you do."

The young asari stepped aside and for the first time Shepard realised that there was someone else standing there. Instinct berated her for having no weapon to hand. When the tall, lithe figure stepped forward, her entire body tensed. The reaction lasted as long as it took the newcomer to gracefully peel back her hood.

"Said she knows you," Myke was explaining in a bored voice. She was staring at her feet, scuffing the toe of one boot as though she expected to be in trouble. She didn't see Shepard's eyes widen in surprise. "Guess I owe you apology if she's a nut job, but she was kind of convincing...and a little scary."

"Samara." Shepard let out a low breath.

Of all her friends and ex-crewmembers, the justicar was one of the last that she would have expected to show up on Omega. Yet, as someone who wandered the Galaxy, Samara was also the most obvious. Conscious of the fact that the three of them were standing in an open doorway, Shepard ushered Myke and Samara inside. Only when the door was securely shut behind them did she move to embrace Samara in a fierce hug. Unused to such a greeting, Samara stood patient and unmoving for several moments.

Before the gesture became too awkward, Shepard stepped back and held her friend at arm's length. "Sorry, I'm just happy to see you. A friendly face is pretty rare these days."

"I had not thought my face overly friendly, Shepard," Samara intoned without a trace of amusement. "But I am pleased that my presence brings you comfort."

Myke scowled as she listened. "Is she serious? Her face is about as friendly as a Krogan standing in the middle of a bunch of Salarians. Are you sure you two actually know each other?"

"Yeah, we do. Although Samara was not expected." Shepard faced Myke. "How the hell did you find her? Did you recognise her from my crew?"

"Nope. I only remembered the hot one with a nice rack and the guy with a stick up his ass," Myke replied, folding her arms across her chest. "Didn't know her until she accosted me while I was trying to eat my lunch."

"I followed a rumour to Omega," Samara explained. "Only the barest of whispers...and a sense within myself, that you were alive. In all honesty I expected to find nothing but an echo. Then I recognised your garment and I thought perhaps this individual had stolen it."

"Why does everyone think I'm a thief?" Myke snapped. Without regard for the fact that the other asari was a full head taller than her, Myke moved forward with furious intent. Toe to toe, she faced down Samara. Going further, she jabbed her finger squarely in the middle of Samara's chest. "Listen up, pyjak-breath, I'm no thief. Evan gave me this because she's shit at doing her own washing and it shrunk. Got it?"

Shepard winced. _This is either going to be really funny, or it's going to get really messy._ "Samara, I'd like you to meet my friend Mycea Kasos. Please be patient, don't truss her up in a singularity without giving her a chance. She means well."

"I had three daughters, Shepard. I assure you I have an ample supply of patience. You must forgive me, Mycea Kasos, I have assumed incorrectly. If Shepard vouches for you, then you shall come to no harm from me."

"You shall come to no harm from me," Myke attempted her own mocking version of Samara's voice. "Has anyone ever told you that you are really, really weird? Do you always talk like that?"

Samara regarded the younger asari with an expressionless gaze. "The code does not dictate a manner in which I should speak. However your words convey much about you. How much...and how little you know. Each word should be chosen with great care. It is necessary that I remain aloof from trivial communications."

"You talk like a justicar in one of those crap Blasto films!" Myke snorted.

Over the subsequent seconds, Shepard watched as Myke's expression transformed gradually from the bored scowl she'd worn through much of the conversation, to questioning, realisation, and finally to an open-mouthed dread. When she sought out confirmation from Shepard, a tiny nod was enough to draw a whimper of fear from her throat.

"Why do I always piss off the wrong sort of asari?" Myke whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she took a step backwards. "Getting shot was fantastic, but I really don't want to die. At least not until I've had sex."

"I should hope that your aspirations extend further afield than experiencing physical relations," Samara observed, disapproval clearly evident in her voice.

"No," Myke squeaked. "They really don't."

"I have no intention of ending your life," Samara continued. Myke breathed out a noticeable sigh of relief. However, it caught in her throat when she realised the justicar wasn't finished. "Unless you give me cause."

Shepard quickly moved to place a reassuring hand on Myke's shoulder. She could feel her friend trembling beneath the touch. "That's Samara's version of a joke, Myke. Why don't we take a seat? I might even make tea."

As Myke gratefully chose a seat at the opposite end of the soda, Shepard knew full well it hadn't been any sort of attempt at humour. She hoped that the cautionary glance she threw over her shoulder had some effect on Samara. While Myke's long list of petty offences wouldn't usually attract a justicar's attention, Shepard didn't want to terrify her even further. Plus, she was quite fond of the little vagabond.

Shepard had thought to wake Liara, but her bondmate was already several steps ahead of her. Liara made a poised sight as she descended the stairs, thankfully fully dressed.

"Justicar, this is an unexpected pleasure."

The caution in Liara's voice indicated that it was anything but a pleasure. Although her expression was carefully guarded, Shepard knew when her bondmate was rattled. Liara greeted Samara further with a slight nod of her head before settling into a deliberately protective position at Shepard's side. The touch of the arm that slid around Shepard's waist clearly conveyed her unease. Liara, who prided herself on knowledge, had absolutely no idea why or how the justicar had come to find them on Omega. Myke was still in a state of shock, eyeing Samara warily from her perch on the sofa, seemingly pleased that Shepard and Liara were acting as a sort of buffer.

"You look well, Liara," Samara offered. "But I can see my presence causes you concern. I assure you that my motives in seeking Shepard out are not to cause harm, but to help. You will not be pleased to know of the rumours that exist."

"I know they exist," Liara replied in a cold voice. Samara did not know of her role as the Shadow Broker, so she did not offer further explanation. "I had not thought them to be widespread."

"They are not, however they have recently come to the attention of Shepard's former employers, the Systems Alliance. I found evidence of orders in the databanks of a ship I had been pursuing on unrelated matters. The orders were to ascertain whether there was any truth to the rumours," Samara explained. "I do not know why, but the Alliance's pursuit of you does not seem to be altruistic, Shepard."

"It's a long story," Shepard replied, unwilling to go into further details. "Suffice to say, I'm no longer their poster child."

"That particular mercenary will not be making it to Omega." Samara also did not explain further. "But there may be others."

Liara remained unconvinced. "It seems highly fortuitous that it was you who discovered this information, Justicar."

Samara responded with a small nod. "I agree, however I also believe that there are certain people to whom you are drawn. For me, Shepard is one of the strongest of these I have ever felt. Although I fulfilled my original obligation in helping you defeat the Collectors if you will acquiesce, I intend to once again pledge my loyalty to you."

"Okay, not that I don't appreciate the offer, Samara, but what about the Code?"

"I am the last of my order, Shepard." Samara's voice finally carried a hint of emotion in response to her statement. Although it did not seem sufficient to convey the magnitude of her words. "I am also nearing the end of my life and I do not have the centuries ahead of me that I once did - not nearly the amount of time required to train a new generation of justicars. Instead, my legacy will be the restoration of peace to the Galaxy."

"That's all very...lofty," Shepard said. "What does that have to do with me?"

"You are the best hope for that peace," Samara replied, much to Shepard's consternation. "However if you do not require my services, I shall leave."

"No, I definitely want you to stay," Shepard replied hurriedly. "Although you might have to keep a low profile. I can't imagine Aria T'Loak will be pleased to have a justicar on Omega - if she doesn't already know you're here." Shepard turned to her surprisingly quiet bondmate. "Liara?"

"I must confess that the practicalities of protecting you by myself have caused me concern," Liara admitted. "Having Samara here will change that. If something happens to me...well, it is nice to know that I no longer have to do this alone."

"What am I then?" Myke piped up from the sofa. "Dead weight?"

"You're essential, Myke," Shepard reassured the young asari as she glanced over her shoulder. "But did you realise you've got sauce all over your face?"

 


	30. Hanek the Lap-Pyjak

**London, Earth**

"You are undeniably drunk, Lucy Park."

"Huh?" For some reason, the latch on their front gate was broken. No matter how hard Lucy tugged on it, the gate stubbornly refused to move. To top it all off, her wife was trying to help her like she was some sort of imbecile who couldn't even open a gate. "It's not broken, it's just a little stuck!"

With a minimal amount of protesting, Lucy allowed herself to be moved aside so that Susannah could reach the gate. Her mouth formed a small 'o' when she saw that the latch worked smoothly and the gate needed to be pushed open, rather than pulled.

Trying to hide her smile, Susannah wrapped an arm securely around Lucy's waist. "I didn't say the gate was broken, sweetie, I said that you're drunk."

"Who's drunk?" Lucy asked as she gratefully relaxed into the warm body next to her. Having something to hold onto made walking that much easier. "Are _you_ drunk, Suze? I told you not to drink so much of Nick's gin. That stuff is lethal!"

Susannah laughed lightly. A musical sound in her ear. "It is definitely lethal. I'm a little surprised that you're not blind," she commented, doing her best to keep Lucy on the path as opposed to walking into the garden on either side.

"Ha! Artificial eye, remember?" Lucy grinned as she turned to look at her wife.

Even though the street was largely in darkness with the curfew in effect, she could still see everything in perfect clarity due to her augmentation. Lucy still wasn't used to it. Although it was a close approximation of her natural eye, the artificial components could not replicate the real thing. Plus there were the enhancements – night vision, 20-20 vision. She was surprised they hadn't managed to throw in x-ray vision. Apparently simply being able to see wasn't enough. It had been a constant struggle to cope at first, wishing desperately that she could see 'normally' again. The pity had been short-lived. Her disability was minor compared to the soldiers who had sacrificed everything. Dead, to save the Galaxy from the Reapers. Susannah had been incorrectly listed as KIA for months. There were many more who would never come home. Heroes like Commander Shepard.

Lucy couldn't remember the exact moment that she had lost her left eye, but the circumstances surrounding it were etched into her memory. The darkness inside the damaged Crucible. Her utter helplessness. Then the shock of seeing another living person – albeit a ruined, shell of one – had jolted her into action. She'd never forget what she'd had to do to Shepard in order to fire the Crucible. It was an image that was burned into her brain.

Before she felt the crushing weight of memory, Lucy forced her thoughts back to the present. Back to the fact that her wife was alive. Then there were the immediate challenges of walking upright and somehow negotiating the stairs up to their front door. Even the simplest of tasks seem to take an immense amount of effort.

"I think I had a bit much to drink," Lucy finally announced. "Please tell me I didn't make an idiot of myself in front of the Traynors?"

"You were your charming self. Just slightly gigglier than normal," Susannah reassured her. "Although I think we managed to make our exit just in time. If we'd stayed any later you might have jeopardised any future invitations."

"Oh god, I hope not. I'd be seriously depressed if I was cut off from Radha's cooking," Lucy flopped against an exterior wall while Susannah tried to open the door. She patted her belly contentedly.

"Do you think Samantha Traynor would mind if we shared her parents?" Susannah paused halfway through keying the lock. She'd also consumed Nick Traynor's homemade gin and was clearly having difficulty remembering the combination.

"Probably not." Lucy shrugged. Sam was one of the nicest individuals she had ever met. Thinking about her however, dredged up the guilt she'd tried to suppress all evening. She cast her gaze skyward. With the most of the lights switched off to conserve energy, the darkness was punctuated by a riot of stars. "It does seem unfair though. We get to have dinner with her parents while she's out there somewhere, probably saving a colony from pirates."

"What the hell is the damn number?" Susannah muttered. "Two-five-one…" She huffed in annoyance. "You should call her you know. She might appreciate hearing that her parents are doing well from someone else."

"Who?" Lucy yawned. She was suddenly feeling exceptionally tired.

"Samantha, you dolt, who else?" her wife replied. The keypad blared red at her in response to another failed attempt. "Hey Luce, I don't suppose you can remember the keycode?"

"I don't know, I haven't spoken to Sam for a long time," Lucy admitted, feeling even guiltier than before. "I messaged her, but she never answered. I guess things were kind of awkward…" Her voice trailed off. She frowned when she saw Susannah struggling with the key pad. "Babe, the code, it's the date we met."

"Oh, of course it is." Susannah grinned triumphantly as they were finally admitted into their own house. She wrapped her arms around Lucy's waist and led her inside. "Why were things awkward? Between you and Samantha Traynor?"

Lucy let out a small sigh. While she'd never really forgotten what had happened, it had all been pushed to the back of her mind by subsequent events. The heady first few days of realising that she was attracted to someone had much too quickly been replaced by the wonderful shock of finding that Susannah was alive. Things were over with Sam before they had ever really begun, and she'd never thought to even mention the relationship to Susannah. Lucy felt ashamed that she had banished her feelings for the _Normandy's_ comms specialist so far from her thoughts as to render them insignificant.

"We almost dated," Lucy said quietly as she clung to Susannah's waist. "We would have…you know, if you hadn't…it doesn't matter, Suze. It was nothing, but I'd still feel a little weird talking to Sam now. It's stupid really. It probably would have been one of those post-war relationships. The intense, physical kind that would have been over quickly."

"I don't know about that," Susannah said as she fumbled for the light. "She's definitely cute. Perhaps I should apologise for coming back from the dead?"

"You're pissed aren't you?" Lucy asked, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. "You always get sarcastic when you're angry."

Susannah finally found the lights and the room was bathed in a soft glow. Any further arguments they were about to make were forgotten when both women saw a vivid trail of blood standing out starkly against the white of the kitchen tiles. Lucy let out a gasp, while Susannah reacted instinctively. She manhandled Lucy behind her with protective intent.

"Stay behind me," Susannah whispered. With business-like efficiency she moved across the kitchen and to the small arms locker in a hidden recess.

The sight of the blood had obviously cleared her senses as it took her all of half a minute to key open the door and extract the pistol and thermal clip within. All Lucy could do was watch in mute terror as Susannah quietly rammed the clip home. _Surely she's not going to follow it?_ Although she remained fixed in place, Susannah moved forward to follow the grizzly trail. _Of course she is_.

"Suze!" she hissed. "What the hell are you doing?"

Susannah merely held up her hand to indicate silence. Keeping her weapon trained forward with a steady hand, she moved around behind the counter in the direction of the trail. From a slight distance, Lucy watched as any colour drained from her wife's already pale face.

"Lucy, medkit, now!" Susannah said in a hoarse voice. She then dropped down behind the counter, out of sight.

Gauging the seriousness of the situation by Susannah's tone of voice, Lucy obeyed without further question. Her heart however was hammering in her chest, a combination of the alcohol and her fear. She retrieved their small kit, dreading what she would find. When she rounded the counter, her dread remained but she managed to find some semblance of coherence in her fuddled brain. David Anderson, formerly Admiral Anderson of the SA Navy, was propped up against the kitchen counter. His face was a rictus of pain as Susannah tried to prise his hand away from his stomach. Lucy fell to her knees, instinctively ripping open the kit. Her hands were trembling as she fumbled for a sachet of medigel.

"Don't want to…put you…in…danger," Anderson gasped. "Just patch me…up. I'll go."

"Don't talk, sir." Heedless of the blood all over her hands, Susannah worked crisply and efficiently. "You're not going anywhere."

However even as the words left her lips, she glanced upwards. Lucy met her gaze. The look they shared conveyed everything in just a split second. They both knew that their quiet suburban life was about to come crashing down around them.

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

_The chit is still in your pocket_ , _Kasos_. It was ridiculous. No matter how many times she reminded herself, Myke had to physically feel the reassuring weight of her credit chit in her breast pocket. She fought the urge to touch it for the third time in as many minutes. _Might as well have a big sign on your forehead, you idiot_ , she told herself. _'I've got credits, mug me.'_

A lack of credits had never overly concerned her in the past. Except perhaps in terms of going hungry. That was pretty shit – especially considering that eating was one of her favourite pastimes. Still, Prax had often sorted her out with a meal, or the Elcor that ran the Steakhouse slipped her leftovers at the end of a slow day. Exactly what she was supposed to do with her credits when she had a roof over her head and a full stomach was a problem Myke had never faced. Shepard had told her to 'spend it wisely' when she handed it over, but Myke wasn't sure what that meant. For lack of a better idea, she found herself in Afterlife. It wasn't exactly her favourite place to be, but the other bars on Omega that she actually knew about were infinitely seedier and even less friendly.

It was a relatively slow patch in the night cycle, even the dancers on the podium high above looked bored and sluggish in their movements without tips to inspire their gyrations. Myke didn't care. The chit in her pocket gave her a swagger she didn't normally possess as she stepped up to the bar.

"What'd ya want?" The Turian behind the bar was even less enthusiastic than the dancers.

With her knowledge of drinks limited to the foul-smelling concoction that Shepard kept hidden from Liara under the sofa and ryncol, Myke chose the latter.

"If you say so." The Turian splashed a generous measure into a waiting glass. "You got the creds?"

"What do I look like to you? Course I got the creds," Myke slapped the chit down on the bar. She had to suppress a grin. She'd always wanted to do that. "Keep 'em coming." And she'd always wanted to say that.

The transaction complete, Myke reached for the glass. Before she could wrap her fingers around it, a hand clamped down on her wrist. Myke immediately recognised Aria's Batarian lap-pyjak, Hanek. She scowled, remembering the last time he'd pushed her down the stairs. Perhaps coming into Afterlife hadn't been a good idea after all.

"Better water this down, Mercer," Hanek informed the barkeep. "Or you'll be hauling this one out of the club over your shoulder."

"Come to push me around a bit more?" Myke demanded as she watched the bartender dilute her drink. "Or are me and my creds not welcome in Afterlife?"

Hanek grinned, or at least Myke thought it was supposed to be a grin. You could never tell with Batarians.

"Just looking after you. Boss's orders."

Myke let out a loud 'hmmmph' "That bitch didn't order anything of the sort." She casually lifted her drink to her lips. To prove a point, she knocked back the entire contents in one gulp. _Holy mother of the Goddess!_ Even watered down, the ryncol felt like it was stripping the lining from her throat. It took an immensely stubborn effort to keep from spluttering in an exceptionally undignified manner. Myke turned away from Hanek as she gasped.

"Another," she croaked when turning back to face the bartender. "And hold the water this time."

Myke seized the freshly poured drink before any water could be added. However instead of making the same mistake in downing the ryncol immediately, she took a measured sip. It still seared her throat and made her heart race alarmingly, but without the pathetic coughing. Buoyed with artificial confidence, Myke delivered a challenging stare in Hanek's direction. "You plan to hang out there for long?"

"Just doing my job, runt," he growled.

"Well you've done it, so you can piss off. Trust me when I say your company isn't the kind of company I'm looking for tonight."

Cradling her drink protectively, Myke went in search of a dark corner from which to watch the dancers without being disturbed. Following another sip of ryncol, she felt slightly smug as she slipped into an empty booth. _Look at you, Kasos, marching into Afterlife like you don't give a shit about T'Loak. Drink in hand, credits to buy more and_ – atop the raised platforms, lithe bodies undulated to the strains of a pulsing beat – _a damn, nice view._

Her glass was only half-empty when someone deposited a second on the table in front of her. Myke's eyes widened. Clearly Aria's lap-pyjak hadn't been lying about looking after her.

"Thanks," Myke said appreciatively. In the next few moments Myke made two mistakes. First she assumed that it was Hanek delivering the drink, secondly she took a gulp of ryncol before looking up to deliver a smug grin. The grin was short-lived, replaced by a surprised gasp that saw a spurt of ryncol trickle down her chin. Instead of a Batarian, Myke found herself staring at an asari wearing the unmistakable garb of one of Afterlife's dancers. The skin-tight garment covered little, but was clearly designed to draw attention to the areas it did cover. Myke dashed her hand across her damp chin.

"Um, I'm not sure you've got the right table," she said. Her words tumbled over one another.

"There is no mistake," the dancer purred in an exotic accent. "My name is Amiria. I am here to ensure that your evening is memorable."

_It's memorable enough already_ , Myke thought. "How?" Myke could have hit herself on the head as soon as the word escaped her lips. Her cheeks burned as Amiria laughed lightly in response.

In a graceful, calculated series of movements, Amiria mounted the table until she was kneeling with her legs spread wide. While one hand weaved a pattern in the air in time to the music, the other began to trace sinuous patterns over her body.

"Holy mother of the Goddess." Myke's breathing came in shallow gasps. Everything was made worse when she made the mistake of imagining that the hands on Amiria's body were her own. To keep herself occupied, she drained the remainder of her first drink, then clutched the second in a tight grip. All the while Amiria continued to move, still dancing, but seemingly more intent on caressing her concealed breasts. Myke couldn't deny that the dancing was having an effect. She felt it everywhere. Even in her toes, which were curled tightly inside her boots. As scarily wonderful as it felt, Myke instinctively knew that somehow Aria T'Loak was behind the entertainment. Her pleasure was cruelly quashed when she imagined herself on a vid screen somewhere, Aria laughing at her naivety. The ice in her veins was flushed out by fire just seconds later as Amiria leaned forward. She did it so quickly that she almost clipped Myke's nose. Then there were lips almost touching her own, the delightful depths of cleavage and the sigh of Amiria's hand doing something between her thighs that Myke couldn't quite see. Against her better judgement, Myke shifted slightly, craning her head so that she could watched Amiria stroke her barely covered sex.

"Do you wish these hands were yours?" Amiria asked.

The dancer was so close that her breath fell hot and fast on Myke's face. Myke caught a hint of something sweet and sickly. The scent only drew her in even further. "Yes."

Amiria manoeuvred her body from the table in much the same way that she had mounted it – gracefully, seductively. With the dance having ended, Myke felt hot stabs of disappointment. Then Amiria took her hand. Although she was led, Myke's feet moved very much of their own accord. She took steps that she couldn't feel as she floated behind Amiria. Myke didn't know their destination and she didn't particularly care. A myriad of thoughts came and went, some were fantasies using imagery borrowed from the rare explicit vid she'd seen, mostly they were her imagining what they might do. Everything else – Afterlife, Hanek, Aria T'Loak – was forgotten beneath the haze.

Myke's fantasies were cruelly shattered when a vice-like grip suddenly seized the back of her neck. Fingernails dug into the sensitive flesh at the nape of her neck and Myke yelped in pain. The cry drew Amiria's attention. Myke's nascent bed partner took one look at who or what stood behind them and her eyes widened. Amiria very swiftly disentangled their entwined fingers and backed away. Before Myke could say a word in protest, the dancer melted away, disappearing into the scant crowd with alacrity. Myke watched her go, momentarily forgetting her own position due to the pain of disappointment. However reality hit in the form of being shoved up against a wall in the shadows…and not in a good way.

Her initial fear waned slightly when she recognised the face beneath the cowl. The justicar. Myke was both scared and furious, but the alcohol she had consumed drove her towards the latter.

"Goddess! What the hell do you want?" she demanded as she rubbed at her aching neck. "Couldn't you see I was in the middle of something?"

"Yes, all too clearly." Samara did not sound apologetic in the slightest. "You were being compelled by lust. Had I let you continue, you would have ended up in a compromising position with that harlot."

"That's the idea! Just because you haven't had any fun in centuries doesn't mean other people can't."

Her fear rapidly fading, Myke searched the crowd over Samara's shoulder. She hoped to find Amiria. Her plan was to apologise profusely, passing Samara off as a raving lunatic. All going well, they could pick up where they left off. Samara clearly had other ideas. The same fingers that had cruelly grabbed the back of her neck, seized her chin and dragged her gaze away from the crowd.

"Ow! Not necessary," Myke protested. "That hurts."

"I assure you it is entirely necessary. You claim to be Shepard's associate-"

"Friend! The word you're looking for is _friend_ ," Myke interrupted.

"-yet you appear to have heard nothing of what transpired the day I arrived on Omega."

Myke scoffed as well as she could with Samara's fingers holding onto her chin. "I heard every word. There are humans looking for Shepard. Sent by the military, whatever they're called…the Alliance."

"Yet here you are. Showing absolutely no discretion. Blindly following a stranger simply because of the pleasure she promises. Did you not consider that her intentions were sinister?"

"She's just a dancer." It sounded pathetic, even to Myke's uninitiated ears. As she said it, it became immediately apparent that 'just a dancer' was the perfect cover. As soon as Samara's grip loosened on her chin, she looked down in shame. "I didn't think."

"Clearly," Samara replied coldly.

As though that was her final word on the subject, she turned to exit the club. For some reason Myke felt compelled to trail after her. The alcohol had driven her fury, now it drove a desperate need to restore some semblance of dignity. "I'm sorry, justicar."

"Do not refer to me as such, especially not in public." Samara did not look at her. "Samara will suffice."

"Gotcha. Where are we going, Samara?" _Why do I even care where this nutcase is going?_ Myke asked herself. She felt strangely light-headed and absolutely convinced that she needed to go wherever it was that Samara was going. It would be exciting. Samara was a justicar after all. This was Omega, there would always been a few heads that needed to be busted according to the code. Busting heads sounded like the best plan Myke had ever heard. She could definitely help with that.

Samara regarded her coolly. "Shepard ought to be informed of your transgression."

Myke laughed loudly. "Ha! I thought you didn't make jokes? That one's pretty good." The expression on Samara's face didn't change. Myke's good mood was quashed as a chill passed through her body. "Goddess, you're serious? No she doesn't, absolutely not! It wasn't like I actually did anything wrong. It was two drinks and one dance! C'mon!"

* * *

 

Shepard instantly knew that the smile fixed onto Aria T'Loak's face wasn't friendly. The Queen of Omega wasn't in the habit of smiling and when she did, it usually preceded something bloody. Still, being greeted in person was a step up from being confronted by mercs or having her friends kidnapped.

At first Liara had advised her to ignored Aria's summons. Neither of them wanted to be in the habit of complying with her every wish. However Aria's second message had seemed strangely sincere – once they read past all of the expletives about being ignored the first time.

The location hardly inspired confidence. A rundown warehouse on the edge of the Tuhi district. Both Shepard and Liara were on edge and trying not to show it. The weight of the Phalanx strapped to Shepard's thigh felt insufficient. She'd tried to take her Harrier, but Liara had managed to convince her that it wasn't a good idea.

After Aria's smile, the next things Shepard noticed were the two limp bodies lying on the ground. Both were humans, clad in non-descript spacer garb – or at least what the uninitiated thought was spacer garb. It was so ordinary that it was clearly contrived.

"Let me guess, friends of mine?" Shepard suggested, coming to a halt in front of Aria.

"It would have been preferable for you to have left them alive," Liara said pointedly.

"They are alive, T'Soni," Aria replied, clearly offended that Liara would assume her to be the type to kill a potential source of information sooner than necessary. "Although they weren't exactly talkative. Perhaps you'll have more luck?"

Shepard glanced across at her bondmate. Although she had heard Liara make threats to harm people in the past, it was confined to words. Besides, Liara couldn't really flay someone alive with her mind. Could she? Liara appeared untroubled by Aria's suggestion. She stared down at the two unconscious men as though they were just more pawns in her game.

"It's clear the net is tightening, Shepard," Aria continued. "My guys have already stripped their omnis. What was left of the data suggests they don't know shit, but it's only a matter of time. I gave you a kick up the ass to get yourself back in the game but I'll hand you over to the Alliance myself if it looks like Omega could become another battlefield."

"And I thought we were friends," Shepard quipped.

Aria surged forward, flaring blue. "Don't push me! Did you think I wouldn't know that you summoned your pet justicar to Omega? A fucking justicar? Last time I let it slide, she was only here for the Ardat Yakshi. This time around what's to stop her and her fucking code from fucking my shit up? I'm far from happy, Shepard."

_Obviously._ "She's not here for you or anything to do with your operation, Aria." Shepard felt like she was trying to calm down an angry viper, one that was about to strike. "Her oath binds her to me. So long as you leave me alone, you're not going to have any trouble."

"Of course I'm not going to have any trouble, it's my fucking station," Aria reminded her, however she appeared to have calmed slightly. Her biotic corona winked out abruptly. "Just make sure you keep her away from Kasos. I don't want that kid becoming any more useless than she already is."

"Since when did you give a shit about Kasos?" Shepard asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise. It was an odd comment for Aria to make, especially out of the blue.

"I don't," Aria muttered evasively. "I'm just thinking ahead. If it becomes common knowledge that I sired her, I don't want a fucking embarrassment on my hands." For a split second, Aria T'Loak appeared almost nervous. Shepard was about to risk her luck and press Aria further on the subject, but she wasn't given the chance. "What do you want me to do with the sacks of meat? Feel free to work them over, T'Soni. I would appreciate the opportunity to watch you in action again."

Shepard watched the exchange between her bondmate and the Queen of Omega, trying to keep a frown from becoming noticeable. She already knew that Liara had helped Aria take back Omega, but that was the extent of it. Liara rarely spoke about the six months that had passed while Shepard was buried beneath London. Shepard didn't press at that point in time, but the interplay did raise questions as to what exactly had happened.

"No," Liara replied eventually. "Move them to a more secure site. I will go over the data from their omni-tools in the meantime. Not that I do not trust your people, Aria, it is simply that their skills are possibly inferior to my own."

"You do possess considerable skills." Aria passed her tongue over her lips. "Always a pleasure, T'Soni…Shepard."

Liara moved close to Shepard as they left the warehouse. "You know this means you cannot leave, Omega. Not with so much at stake. Not even to help Ashley."

"I know," Shepard replied curtly. She suddenly felt a pang of resentment toward her bondmate. Although she would have eventually come to the same realisation, she felt like Liara was giving her an order.

Neither Shepard nor Liara discussed their meeting with Aria further, especially not as they moved out into Omega's streets. An undercurrent of anger continue to bubble through her veins, meaning that Shepard deliberately kept her distance until she realised she was being childish.

She found it odd walking about Omega with Liara at her side. Usually Myke was her only companion. The young asari chattered constantly, even when she didn't get a reply. Myke's eyes darted everywhere, taking everything in, noting what was new and passing this information onto Shepard, regardless of how mundane it was. Liara was the polar opposite – silent, poised. They could have each been walking alone for all the contact between them. Although Liara didn't move particularly fast, Shepard felt like she was constantly hastening to catch up. While she was jostled on all sides, the throngs seemed to part for Liara.

Just the simple act of being together in public highlighted the differences between them. Shepard rarely contemplated the fact that Liara was an alien. Although some humans were repulsed by the idea of a physical relationship with an alien, Shepard had been drawn to asari. There were clear reasons, but Shepard liked to pare it down to the incredibly simple one that blue was her favourite colour. As the thought of colours took hold in her mind, Shepard found herself drawn to a stall displaying a selection of artwork. It was truly dreadful for the most part, but it did remind her that their apartment was growing increasingly dreary by the day. She browsed, hoping to find something she didn't mind, when she realised that Liara was leaving her behind.

Just as Shepard turned, a small shape flew at her legs. Her soldier's reflexes responded. She caught the small body before it could tumble backwards. To her astonishment, Shepard found herself staring at a petite blue face. A pair of eyes, wide with fright, stared back at her. Despite her relationship with Liara, and her past connections with asari, it was the first time had seen an asari child up close. At the back of her mind, she remembered Liara explaining that asari children were rare outside of asari space, but it still didn't explain the degree to which they were kept sheltered whilst very young. Shepard released the grip that had kept the child from falling.

"Are you alright?" Shepard asked quietly. Tight-lipped, the little one responded with a very quick nod. Shepard scanned the crowd for Liara, but her bondmate had been drawn further away without realising they had been separated. Faced with dealing with the child on her own, Shepard tried to fix what she hoped was a friendly smile on her face. "Shall we find your mother?"

However there was no reply to her question. Instead the child reached out with a small, trembling hand. Her fingers stretched out tentatively, finally achieving her goal of reaching the dark strands of hair which tumbled loose over Shepard's shoulders. Her mouth opened to form an astonished 'o' as she let it slide through her fingers, exploring the texture.

"Trust me, kid, you're much better off without any. It's a mess in the mornings," Shepard explained, even though her new acquaintance probably didn't understand what she meant.

"Kyra!"

The panicked cry that Shepard heard above the din of the crowd could only belong to a mother who had lost sight of her child. She gently swept Kyra up into her arms, the child still intent on playing with her hair, and carefully forced a path through to the mother. At the sight of her daughter, a clearly relieved expression passed across the mother's face and she scurried to meet them.

"Kyra!" the older asari scolded as Shepard handed her over. The child's fingers were still stuck in Shepard's hair, reluctant to let go. "I'm sorry. She's just turned ten and thinks she needs to see the world. Thank you, human."

"It's Evan…and it was no problem," Shepard assured her.

With the apology seemingly sufficient, the mother turned and continued on her way, keeping a firm grip on her daughter. Shepard saw Kyra peering over her mother's shoulder and responded with a small wave. Kyra didn't respond.

As Shepard stood and stared, a flurry of images suddenly filled her mind – a memory of sorts. Hazy and distant at first. They were clouded with the memory of horrific, consuming agony. Forcing aside those last moments within the Crucible, Shepard focused instead on Liara's last gift. An idyllic scene of the two of them in the midst of their children. It was entirely mawkish, impossibly farfetched, but it had carried her through. Even after the child and her mother had disappeared into the crowd, Shepard remained reflective. For some reason the images had almost been forgotten. The sight of the small blue face, staring up at her, brought them flooding back. Shepard knew it wasn't memory, or even premonition. They had been a fabrication, conjured by her desperate bondmate at the moment of their parting. A gentle touch on her waist caused her to start slightly. Liara was at her side, a curious expression on her face.

"Where were you just now?" she asked softly.

"Somewhere else," Shepard replied. Her voice was so quiet that it could barely be heard above the clamour of the market.

"Anywhere nice?" Liara asked as they resumed walking.

Shepard deliberately moved her hand so that their fingers brushed. The touch was electric. Her body thrummed with carnal need, and something a little tender. She could tell that Liara felt it too. The resulting smile on her face was anything but innocent. However any further conversation was something Shepard wasn't prepared to have in public.

"I had thought your decision to remain on Omega might have distressed you," Liara said almost as soon as they were within the confines of their apartment fifteen minutes later. "This I did not expect."

Any anger that Shepard had originally felt had dissipated. Somehow her collision with Kyra had tempered it, or at least forced it to the back of her mind. "I still don't like it," she admitted. "But I trust Ash. I know we've prepared her as well as possible."

Liara nodded, accepting the explanation. She crossed to the sofa and deliberately sat down. Shepard could tell by the way she cocked her head to one side that she had not finished her exploration. "There is something else." It was not a question.

A small sigh escaped Shepard's lips. The emotions she was feeling were difficult for her to express. The exact need she felt. Why she suddenly felt it. The only thought she had with any conviction was that now was not the right time. For a moment or two, she toyed with the idea of sitting next to Liara. Eventually she decided to remain standing.

"Before I stepped into the Crucible…" Shepard's voice trailed off. "The last meld we shared…you showed me something. A hope. A future that could never happen…at least not then."

"Yes," Liara replied. Her voice was soft, but also largely unreadable.

"Is that what you wanted for us?"

Liara inclined her head downwards. Towards the floor. Anywhere else. Shepard didn't want to assume the reason, but she knew that the expression on her face was intense. It was also a difficult issue for them both.

"It was a fantasy," Liara admitted. "Somewhere I allowed my mind to wander when I was on the cusp of sleep – especially towards the end of the war, even before I knew your fate was a certainty. Since then, with everything else, it has not crossed my mind for some time."

"I want to start a family," Shepard announced.

A choked, abrupt sound that could have been a laugh escaped Liara's lips.

"Okay, not the reaction I was hoping for."

"You have a poor sense of timing," Liara said accusingly.

"Not right now," Shepard explained hurriedly. "There are about a dozen reasons that would put us off having kids right now – not least of all the lack of decent daycare on Omega. The need to wait until our situation is more stable for one. I think we'll both know when the time is right."

Liara looked up and met her gaze. A small smile ghosted her lips, but to Shepard it appeared sad. Anyone else would have missed it, but Shepard saw the underlying shadow behind her eyes. The smile was intended to conceal it. Although Shepard could see the sadness, she didn't understand it.

She pressed as gently as she dared. "Say something…anything?"

"You will make a wonderful mother," Liara answered.

Sincerity clung to her bondmate's words like a blanket, distracting Shepard from exploring the fear. In fact, her mind was already conjuring up a possible future. One that closely resembled Liara's fantasy. She ignored her own doubts that the time would never be right and concentrated instead on the hope. Despite her growling stomach, Shepard crossed to the sofa and sat down. Liara was surprisingly pliable as she wrapped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. As Liara nuzzled in close, Shepard deposited a soft kiss atop her crests. The quiet moment was shattered by the door chime. She left Liara sitting while she went to answer it.

"Why am I not surprised," Shepard said when she saw Myke standing on the threshold. What did surprise her was the fact that Samara was standing behind Myke, one hand clamped on the young asari's shoulder.

"Your associate-"

"Friend," Myke muttered sullenly.

"-is determined to ignore the precarious nature of our position. Her complacency is our single largest weakness."

"Come in," Shepard growled in a semi-irritated tone, waving them inside impatiently.

Once inside, Shepard folded her arms across her chest indulgently as she waited for some form of explanation. She watched the play of expressions across Mycea's face. It was evidently clear that the young asari was struggling to rein in her temper in the face of the justicar's accusations.

"Do I even want to know?" Shepard asked good-humouredly.

"I found this one carousing with a dancer in Afterlife," Samara said blatantly. "Had I not intervened-"

"Okay, okay. I've learned my lesson!" Myke interrupted. "You don't need to go into details in front of Evan."

"Samara, Mycea is free to do whatever she pleased," Shepard explained patiently. "I'm not about to keep tabs on how she spends her time…and neither should you."

"Perhaps you should? In the past you were surrounded by a team of highly trained operatives. Many of whom I may have been compelled to kill under different circumstances, but each had the skills to be formidable allies. You are now in a pit of vipers protected by two maidens, one who possesses some skill-"

Liara actually muttered something under her breath at that comment.

"-and the other, absolutely no skills whatsoever. I propose that she be trained before her bad habits become the habits of a lifetime."

"By who?" Myke demanded. "You? Ha! I'd rather kiss an elcor."

Shepard shrugged. "It's an unheard of offer, Kasos. To be trained by a justicar?"

"And it's not like I've got anything better to do right?" Myke folded her arms across her chest in perfect imitation of one of Shepard's stubborn moods. She stared at Samara. "What the hell am I supposed to learn? Justicars are biotic badasses. I'm broken, no biotics. Does that put a dent in your plans?"

If Samara was surprised by Myke's admission, it did not show in her expression. "There are numerous techniques that you can learn. But we should start without delay."

"You are shitting me! I've got stuff to do today," Myke protested. She had started to sag a little and colour was draining from her face. "Plus I think I'm a bit drunk."

"Why don't you start tomorrow?" Shepard suggested as Myke slumped onto the sofa. "In the meantime, we could have a meal together. I'll cook."

Liara placed a hand on her arm. "Please don't." She was smiling.

"Hey, I'm improving, T'Soni. You watch yourself or you'll be cooking for one from now on."

"I'll help," Liara said firmly as she followed Shepard into the kitchen area of their apartment. She continued talking as Shepard busied herself grabbing packets out of the cupboard. "Evan, I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind…but it is apparent that you do have a family of sorts."

Shepard glanced over her shoulder. Samara had selected a quiet space under the stairs and was seated in a meditative pose. Myke was lying on the couch, rubbing her temples. Shepard thought of the constant door chimes, interrupting her life at the most inopportune moments. "Yeah, I guess I do," she said quietly.

* * *

 

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2, Terminus Systems**

Ash absently flicked through the data on the console, watching the holos change with each swipe, reassuring herself that she knew everything by route, and making minute alterations to the plan. Although the plan that she and Liara had concocted was as robust as possible, there were an infinite number of variables for which they could only make predictions. There were any number of ways in which everything could fall apart and descend into disaster. As a soldier, Ash knew she could only prepare herself for such situations as best she could – Mars, Horizon, even Earth – but this time around she was taking the lead. The chain of command stopped with her. Ash was still struggling to come to terms with that fact.

"You got a minute, Captain?"

Ashley glanced over her shoulder to find Lieutenant-Commander Leon Grenier walking down into the pit, a determined expression on his face. Her immediate thought was that he wanted to ask to be included in a more direct role, as opposed to taking command of the _Normandy_. There was already an immutable and very simple reason as to why he couldn't be a part of the away team – he wasn't female. For reasons of expediency, Liara had built their entire cover around an exclusively female merc gang.

"Make it quick, Grenier," she momentarily turned from the data.

"I'd like to raise my concerns about Commander Javik's position during the mission. I don't think he should be on board the _Normandy_ ," Grenier explained. When he saw Ash's expression start to change to one of irritation, he continued quickly. "I realise both you and Captain Kurin have made it clear that I'm in charge, but I am worried that his opinion of you will negate his effectiveness and-"

"Noted, LC," Ash interrupted. "But Javik will remain on-board the _Normandy_. If it offers you any reassurance, I will make the CIC out of bounds-"

"Last remaining Prothean or not, he's an ass. He openly criticises your command ability, in front of your crew and the commandos. It's irrational and based on what? The fact that he doesn't like you?"

Ash sighed. "I held a gun to his head. He threatened to shoot…someone, and I took obvious offence. I may have called him triangle head to his face." The confusion on Grenier's face only deepened with each successive word. "It's a long story, one I don't have time to go into right now. Regardless of his opinion of me, he's an asset and you should treat him as such. The only person that can change his opinion of me, is me. There will be no further discussion on the subject."

"But, ma'am-"

"Dismissed, Grenier," Ash cut him short.

Grenier turned to leave, but paused mid-way through his turn. "Ma'am, if you don't mind my saying so, you look a little…off-colour."

Ash felt off-colour, any number of concerns far weightier than Grenier's churning in her gut, but she wasn't about to go into details with her XO. "Thanks for the concern, LC, but I'm fine. Can you find Chief Traynor for me? I need to speak with her."

Any lingering resentment that Traynor still possessed was not reflected in her attitude. She turned up within five minutes of Grenier leaving, a professional expression fixed on her face.

Traynor paused at the top of the stairs. "You wanted to see me, ma'am?"

"I did. I'm sorry to drag you away from your duties, Traynor." Ash thought her voice sounded subdued. When Traynor offered a small nod in response, Ash continued. "I owe you an apology." She already felt dishonest enough sticking to formalities while they were both on duty. In addition, a knot of dread formed in her stomach as a result of what she had to say eventually. "The other day, with that whole stupid dating profile, I was out of line as your CO and as your friend."

"No you weren't," Sam replied, much to Ashley's surprise. "At least not as a friend."

"Maybe a little-"

"No, ma'am." Traynor shook her head emphatically. "I needed a kick up the arse and I'm going to do it – make a profile. Who knows, maybe next time I've got some shore leave I'll have a date or two lined up instead of sitting around moaning about how I can't meet women. Plus this way I get to weed out the ones who have bad grammar."

Despite everything, Ashley laughed. "Well, just let me know if you need any help with it."

"No offence, ma'am, but I've seen evidence of your writing and I'll pass," the Chief replied affably. "However you could give me advice on the right picture."

"Now that I can do."

"Thank you, ma'am." Traynor sounded sincere, and perhaps a little giddy with the thought of it. "Although I get the impression that I'm not here just to hear an apology."

"The apology was important, but you're right. There is something else." Ashley paused and bit her lip. There was still time to change her mind, find someone other than Traynor. However her gut was telling her that there was no alternative. They needed a comms specialist in the away team. Xeron was a traitorous snake and Yeoman Clayton, Traynor's replacement on comms, was still wet behind the ears. "I need you on this one, Chief."

Ash felt guilty as the words left her lips. She carefully watched the other women's reaction, watching her digest the request and realise what was being asked of her. Ash looked for anything that she could use as an excuse – fear, hesitation – some reason to change her mind. Traynor foiled everything when her initial apprehension disappeared, stubbornly suppressed by a determined smile. Everything about her reaction – her smile, her bearing – indicated that she was pleased to have been included.

_Oh, Sam_ , Ash thought wearily. _You're too brave and trusting for your own good_. "The briefing starts at oh-six-hundred tomorrow in the War Room."

"I'll bring the tea," Traynor suggested eagerly.

"You'll probably need an entire urn of the stuff," Ash replied. "You can expect to be there for the better part of the day. In preparation you'll want to familiarise yourself with codes favoured by Terminus mercs."

Sam beamed smugly. "No problem. I've written several papers."

"And you'll want to brush up on the research done into Reaper signals as well."

"Been there, written the paper, got the t-shirt," the Chief continued.

Ash frowned. Traynor was entirely too happy. She had to do something about it. "And an hour of smalls arms practice with me. You're not too bad with a rifle, but heavy pistols aren't your strong suit. Let's say, oh-four-thirty, after breakfast?"

"Pistols? We're really doing this aren't we?" Traynor's face finally fell slightly. "Destroying a Reaper under the noses of Terminus mercs?"

"If all goes to plan," Ash said carefully. "Yes."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Stay close to me, Sam. I'll get you through."

Sam brightened a little at this. Reassured. "You sound like Shepard."

Ash smiled. It was a small smile. She could do this. She would get them all through this. "Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot lately."


	31. The Ballad of Calisto Callahan

**Mindoir, Attican Traverse**

Second Lieutenant Miranda Lawson was questioning whether her pseudo friendship with Jack Zero was really a good idea. _In what universe was it ever a good idea?_ she asked herself as she stuffed another forkful of barely edible rehydrated food into her mouth. _You're two entirely different people. Just because you've stopped hating each other, doesn't mean you should be friends._

Miranda wasn't in the habit of playing with her food, but she couldn't bring herself to lift another mouthful to her lips. The mess chef had grandly labelled it chilli con carne. As far as Miranda was concerned, it looked and tasted like she imagined vomit would look and taste. Unfortunately, it was the best the marines in her unit could hope for. The last two scheduled supply drops hadn't arrived. The previous one had contained less than half their requirements. As CO, Jack was loath to start requisitioning food from Mindoir's farmers. They were hardy enough, but had only recently managed to re-establish themselves in the wake of the Reaper War. The marines would make do with their stockpiles of MREs until they were resupplied. With an immense effort, Miranda made herself eat a little more. Across the table, Jack was digging into her own food with gusto.

A full mouth didn't stop Jack from offering banal attempts at conversation. "So, I bet Williams is strictly a bottom. Tough marine out in the field, fucking vanilla between the sheets."

The level of conversation made the food taste even worse. Miranda swallowed. It slithered down her throat and made her gag slightly. "No comment."

Jack grinned triumphantly. "And you love being in control. It all fits. This is fucking brilliant. Do you ever play Alliance soldier, Cerberus operative?"

"There is no such game," Miranda replied tautly.

"Of course there is. You pretend you've captured her, start doing experiments on her where she needs to be tied up-"

"I'd stop right there, Jack, before you embarrass yourself even further."

"I'm not embarrassed. Are you?"

"Stop being such a child."

"Didn't get a childhood thanks to Cerberus." Jack suddenly started laughing at the moment that Miranda began to put on her 'here we go again' expression. "You should see your face. I'm shitting you. I'm trying out this new thing where I pretend you were never part of Cerberus. It's working pretty well so far. At least until I look at you. You are such a buzzkill, Cheerleader."

"Try dropping the cheerleader part too," Miranda suggested as she swirled her fork around in her food. She stopped herself.

"Nah, you still look like a cheerleader. You want to talk about something else?"

"I would rather we ate in silence."

"If I wanted to do that, I'd eat by my fucking self," Jack replied. She grabbed her tray as though preparing to leave. "Fine, I get it, you just don't want to talk to me."

Miranda sighed when she looked across and saw the petulant expression on Jack's face. "What do you want to talk about, Jack?"

Jack grinned. "I bet Williams is a screamer…or at least really filthy in bed."

Miranda was mercifully saved by the pinging of her omni-tool.

"I've got an incoming call from the SSV _Normandy_ , ma'am." It was their comms specialist. "I can only give you five minutes on the horn so you'd better haul ass over to the radio shack pronto."

"So does that mean you're done with lunch?"

Jack's question only barely filtered through her fear as Miranda hastily scraped back her chair. She offered a careless nod before running out of the mess hall. She had drawn up a meticulous schedule of calls between herself and Ashley that took into account their respective downtime. There was nothing scheduled for another three days. Miranda could only assume that there was some sort of emergency. Still, if Ash herself was placing the call then it meant that she was safe at least. Although had the comms specialist actually said anything about Ashley? Miranda ran faster.

Relief flowed through her entire body when she heard Ashley's perfectly healthy sounding voice, albeit slightly faint _. {M? Thank God. For a moment there I thought your techie wasn't going to get you.}_

"Hey you," Miranda savoured the sound of Ashley's voice. "Don't blame him, we're busy trying to establish urgent contact with HQ. It's just a requisition error but it's piled on top of two previous errors. It's all unimportant. You're three days early. Is everything okay?"

_{Of course. I'm just going to be off comms for a while, a few days, four or five at the most. I wanted to get in a few minutes with my favourite girl first.}_

"Favourite? Are there others?" Miranda demanded. "Williams, do I need to fight to keep you, because I guarantee that I would win." The sound of laughter followed. Miranda was about to smile, then she realised something. She knew Ashley's laugh almost as well as she knew her own and this one sounded forced. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me where you're going, other than the fact that I already know you're swanning around in the Terminus somewhere."

 _{It's just a dog and pony show,}_ Ashley replied.

Miranda had absolutely no idea what that meant, but she took some reassurance from the casual manner in which it rolled off Ashley's tongue. "Just another day in the office?"

 _{Something like that,}_ Ashley said. _{Hey, are you still in contact with my sisters? Not that I care if you aren't, I was just-}_

"Ash," Miranda interrupted. "Of course I write to your sisters. I get more messages from Abby than I get from you. Although I did forget to tell you that she passed my address onto Sarah. It's not the same as meeting in person, but I feel like I'm getting to know her. All three of them really. Although Lynn is about as bad at writing as you are."

 _{I'm glad. I guess I was always a little worried that you wouldn't get along. I mean, with you not having any siblings and being a little…}_ Ash's voice trailed off.

Miranda laughed. "Uptight? You can say it, babe. And no, I love them all immensely."

There was a drawn out pause on the other end of the line. At first Miranda thought they had been disconnected, then she heard a clearly audible intake of breath. "Miranda…if anything were to happen to me, would you look out for them? I know they're all grown women, but they still need a big sister from time to time."

"You know I would. It goes without-" Miranda's breath caught in her throat. For several moments she struggled to breathe, as though someone had wrapped their fingers around her heart and started squeezing mercilessly. It wasn't necessary to ask Ashley why she had felt the need to ask that particular question. "Ash…" Her voice sounded so small and frightened that Miranda did not recognise it as her own. Thoughts reeled through her head. Mostly demands. Demands that Ash pull out of whatever duty she faced. That Ash tell her the _Normandy_ 's destination. Or even that Ash be honest with her as to just how dangerous it was. Finally the demand that they both walk away from the duty that kept them apart. "Ash," Miranda finally continued. "Please stay safe. You've got promises to keep."

_{You know me, M. I'm always careful.}_

Outside of the QEC booth, the specialist was making an urgent gesture to cut the conversation. Miranda hated him and his slavish devotion to duty. She hated herself for the same reason. "I'm scheduling another call in a week. Will you be back in contact by then?"

_{If all goes to plan.}_

If all goes to plan. So many variables. Including the one that led to Ashley never coming back. "You know how much I love you?"

 _{Nope,}_ Ash tried to inject a little humour into her voice. _{But if it's half as much as I love you, then I'm pretty fucking lucky.}_

"Talk to you soon, marine." The words left Miranda's lips like a promise

_{You got a date, sweet cheeks.}_

The call ended. Miranda made her way outside. It was moving into winter on Mindoir, and the sky was covered in a heavy grey blanket that suited her mood perfectly. Not for the first time she considered walking away from everything. She wouldn't even bother to resign her commission. She would just quit. And if she could somehow convince Ash to join her, then they could start a life together. An actual life. One where making love was an everyday occurrence as opposed to something that took place in rundown motel rooms a few times a year.

Jack was leaning against the exterior of the comms shack. Miranda had never seen a CO do less work, and yet somehow everything managed to get done. For someone who was driven to remain busy at every moment, it was infuriating. Jack was also the last person that Miranda wanted to talk to.

"What do you want?" Miranda asked coldly. "I don't want to participate in any more of your puerile attempts at conversation."

Jack scowled. "Thought you might've got some bad news. I wanted to be here, you know, in case you were upset or some shit. But nope. You're still a bitch. So everything must be okay."

Miranda couldn't think of anything worse than crying in front of Jack. Plus she wasn't sure that Jack would have the slightest clue as to what to do. Regardless, Miranda realised she appreciated the gesture.

"Everything is okay," Miranda replied succinctly.

"Great," Jack fired back. "Then I need you to take a squad and a couple of our techies up onto the south ridge to fix that early warning system."

"I thought we were still waiting on replacement parts?"

"We are, but Collins reckons he can rig something up that will hold out for a week or two."

Miranda glanced southwards to the distant line of green and grey that traced the horizon. It was a shitty duty to say the least. She'd heard that the last two hundred metres of the ridge was too steep for their decrepit Grizzlys. A Mako could have made it, but Miranda and her squad would be humping it on foot. There was always the remote possibility that Jack was just trying to help keep her occupied. It was unlikely, but with their newfound 'friendship', Miranda couldn't rule it out.

"We'll get it done." Miranda promised. "Don't wait up for us tonight through." It was strictly a two day job.

"Whatever," Jack shrugged. "Watch out for nathaks though, Cheerleader. I'd hate to have to do all the work around here myself."

* * *

 

**Location Withheld, Terminus Systems**

"Miranda is going to kill me," Ashley Williams murmured to herself.

Clad in just her underwear, the captain of the _Normandy_ gaped in disbelief at her almost unrecognisable reflection. She was both horrified and strangely fascinated by this stranger staring back at her. _That's the point_ , she reminded herself. _You're not supposed to be you._ Still, she could overlook the fact that her dark hair was now a vivid purple and the lens that made her appear blind in one eye. Both were easily reversible. The vivid streaks of colour that marred her skin however, were a different story altogether.

A marine was supposed to have tattoos. Or at least a traditional unit badge tattooed into their bicep or a forearm. Ash had always found a reason not to get inked. Mostly using the excuse that she didn't want her younger sisters to copy her. Always hiding the fact that she just didn't want one. Now she was the owner of several spectacular pieces of body art, none of which she would have chosen for herself. Not even if she were blind drunk. Blind drunk and with a pistol pressed to her temple. Ash turned so she could see her back, grimacing as she stared at the thresher maw trailing down one shoulder blade, all the way to her butt cheek. A mess of gaudy flowers covered one bicep, a smoking Revenant the other. By far the worst was the naked asari now reclining across her abdomen. Although perfectly executed, Ash winced each time she caught a glimpse of the figure – its head thrown back, tits thrust upward, one hand buried between its legs. Ash felt sick to her stomach. Miranda was definitely going to kill her, immediately after vowing never to sleep with her again.

With a sigh, Ash started dressing. She pulled on unfamiliar clothes, completing her transformation from Captain Ashley Williams into Calisto Callahan – pirate, slaver, murderess, and owner of the Galaxy's worst tattoos.

Several minutes later the Nest's door chime sounded. Ash glanced at the time. 0700. It was Kurin, reporting for her final briefing as second in command. When the asari captain walked in, Ash failed to suppress a shocked expression. While her own outfit, mostly leather with an inadequate amount of ceramic plating, left only her abdomen and arms bare, Kurin was largely naked. Other than a bra and thong, Kurin wore nothing except a pair of heeled boots and a small smile. The latter was obviously in response to Ashley's expression.

"I know what you're thinking," Kurin announced. Her smile completely at odds with the circumstances. "Where the hell is she keeping her gun?"

Ash continued to stare, speechless.

"You don't need to look so horrified, Captain. In some parts of Thessia this would be considered overdressed."

"We're not going to Thessia, Kurin," Ashley felt the need to remind her. "It's a remote asteroid full of mercs. And you're going in dressed like…that."

"Yes." Much to Ash's confusion and frustration, Kurin appeared blithely unconcerned by this fact. She crossed the short distance between them and sidled up to Ash in an overly familiar fashion. "Because you, Calisto, are a notorious merc, infamous for your love of asari flesh and I am that current piece of flesh."

"And I want you to walk around half-naked?" Ash sked dubiously. "Can't I feel sorry for you and at least let you wear a decent pair of trousers? Ashley knew it was a stupid question. She'd spent the past week going over every inch of her cover until she felt she knew Callahan as well as she knew herself. Hell, the tattoos weren't fake. They were goddamn real and they hurt like fuck. Clearly her 'piece of flesh' couldn't be fake either.

Kurin studied her intently. "I need to know if you can do this."

Ash deflected the question back at the asari. "Can you do this, Kurin?"

"I'm a fucking commando, Williams," Kurin replied, abandoning any attempt at sticking to her cover. "We spend our lives training for this sort of shit – decades, centuries."

"Some spend centuries, but not you," Ash commented quietly. She watched Kurin's mask slip slightly. It wasn't her intention to bate her fellow officer, and certainly not to doubt her. However, she desperately needed to know what made her tick. Despite all the time they had spent together and the time to come, Ash felt as though she barely knew Kurin. "I heard one of your commandos say you went to school with Liara T'Soni. That would make you what, 111, 112 at the most?"

Kurin snarled. "I am 113, but don't for a second think that you can use this to doubt my credentials. It takes decades of training to even be allowed to call yourself a commando, but I was born to be one. The Kurins have been warriors for millennia. I won't fail them. I am far more nervous about being under the command of a human with so little command experience." She gave Ashley a hard stare. "So why don't we stop doubting each other and start showing some trust? Because if we don't, then we're both going to die on that rock. And I for one would prefer to live, at least a little longer."

"I trust you…implicitly," Ash replied sincerely. "I never doubted that. It was just that…I'm going about this the wrong way. I'm just worried about you, and seeing you dressed like that doesn't help matters."

"You're concerned about me?" Kurin asked in disbelief. The harsh edge had disappeared from her voice. "Don't be. As long as you play your part, I'll be the safest one on that rock. Remember, Calisto, you own me. I am your property. Anyone touches me, they answer to you. Can you be that woman?"

Ash clenched her jaw, biting down hard for a few moments. She dredged up memories of the pain she'd felt whilst getting the tattoos and used them to drive the anger she knew she needed. Raw physicality flooded her veins. Without warning she surged forward, using her body to slam Kurin up against the bulkhead behind them. She felt the corresponding jarring throughout the asari's body. She drew on the mantle of the merc she'd studied to become, slipping into her new life like a second skin. With a sudden rush of blood to the head, she claimed Kurin's lips in a bruising kiss. There wasn't a trace of tenderness. As Kurin responded with a savagery of her own, Ash found it difficult to tell which thoughts were actually her own and which were driven by the base instincts of the persona she'd assumed. Surely the desperate desire to rip aside the flimsy thong and thrust her fingers deep inside Kurin had to belong to someone else. It _had_ to.

When she finally drew away, Ash found herself panting with need. At any other time, the blatant display would have left her ashamed. Now she lingered in her arousal, holding it around herself like a shield.

"We've got work to do," Ash growled. Even her voice no longer sounded like her own.

* * *

 

Several hours earlier, Sam had watched from a viewing port as the SSV _Normandy_ SR-2 grew smaller and smaller until it vanished from sight. She was aboard a state of the art asari frigate that had been purloined and renamed the _Whirling Whore_ , vessel of the infamous Calisto Callahan and her Corsairs. It had seemed terrific fun at first, but as Sam had watched her home disappear from view, she knew that there would be very little fun to be found where they were headed. It was why she had memorised the sleek lines of the _Normandy_ one more time.

Now she sat in a state of limbo, waiting with most of the crew in the cramped quarters of the Whore. Some of the commandos were sleeping. Westmoreland and Campbell were engaged in a subdued game of Skyllian Five. They'd asked Sam to join, but she politely declined, preferring to be alone with her own thoughts.

Sam didn't know whether to be grateful that her merc outfit left her decently covered or peeved that someone thought she couldn't pull off the same half-naked appearance that the rest of the crew had donned. On the other side of the room, Gunnery Sergeant Petrova caught her eye. The rapacious smile that spread across the blonde woman's face made Sam worry that her thoughts were written on her forehead. Just for a moment, Sam let her eyes linger over the other marine's taut abdominal muscles. Her brazen confidence she blamed on the company she currently kept – commandos and combat marines. Petrova wasn't helping matters. Sam could have sworn she saw the Gunny's tongue trail across her upper lip. She dismissed it immediately. Either it was her over-active imagination or Petrova getting settled into her character. Still…Sam caught a glimpse of herself in a reflective panel. Although she was fully covered, she had to admit that her black outfit was tight. Okay, it was skin tight. It revealed absolutely everything. - every curve and line of her body. Sam then forced herself to re-evaluate the one thing she had been stubbornly ignoring – her haircut. She reached up and brushed the tips of her fingers against the side of her head. The stubble felt oddly smooth, rippling beneath her touch. When she shifted her attention to the longer hair on top, sweeping a few errant strands back across her forehead, Sam realised she was preening. _Admit it, Sam_ , she told herself _. You think you look shit hot…and maybe a little butch._

A voice over the comm interrupted her. "Traynor, I need you up front."

Nerves quickly returned as Sam navigated her way through the unfamiliar passages of the _Whirling Whore_. She had to admit that the asari frigate was a work of art. Exactly where they had managed to obtain such a vessel within the space of a week, Sam had no idea. Much like the logistics behind their entire operation. Who the hell had come up with the name, the _Whirling Whore_? She fervently hoped that there would be a time in the future where she could laugh about the name of their vessel over a couple of drinks.

There was no familiar CIC, instead the captain sat in a chair directly behind the pilots. Williams sat there now. _Calisto_ , Sam reminded herself. For the duration of the mission, Ashley Williams didn't exist. Sam still felt slightly ashamed when she remembered her squawk of horror upon seeing her captain with purple hair, one eye, and a collection of tattoos. With the dramatic change in appearance, Ashley seemed to have been consumed by her new persona. Even her mannerisms had changed into a crude approximation of the woman Sam knew. Commander Kurin was also in character, draped across the wide arm of Ashley's chair, one arm stretched out. Her fingers stroked the back of the Captain's head as though they were lovers. It was convincing enough for Sam to feel jealous on behalf of Miranda Lawson. She had absolutely no doubt that the raven-haired woman's reaction would involve expletives and biotics.

At the sound of footsteps behind her, Ashley glanced over her shoulder. Other than a slight twitch of her lip, there was no acknowledgement or welcome. She jerked her head toward a nearby console. Sam knew that the time had come for her to prove her worth. Filling the view screen at the fore of the cockpit, was Gurkan itself. An otherwise non-descript asteroid, it was made remarkable by the fact that it was tethered to the hulk of a Reaper. Or the Reaper was tethered to the asteroid. It was difficult to tell as they were both the same size. Sam had seen more than enough of the insectoid beings to last a lifetime, but this one still made her skin crawl.

On the asteroid's surface, Sam could make out a collection of structures, lights twinkling in the inky darkness. The space around the asteroid wasn't exactly teeming with ships, but there were enough to rival the size of an Alliance Fleet. Not to mention the ring of defence cannons in orbit.

"Vessel approaching on coordinates two-nineteen, who the fuck are you?"

Used to the professionalism of the Alliance, Sam was taken aback slightly. Her mouth worked soundlessly as her mind struggled to keep up. She was all too aware that there were at least a dozen pairs of eyes fixed on her, all waiting for her to deliver. _C'mon, Sam, focus. You screw this up and everyone is dead._ In this case, 'everyone' was fifteen crewmembers – human and asari. Some, like Westmoreland and Campbell, were friends. Others she knew by sight only. Sam had never felt so inadequate.

"Gurkan, this is the _Whirling Whore_." Sam tried to make herself sound a little less Oxbridge, a little more street. She failed miserably. "You've heard of Calisto Callahan? She's one bitch you don't want to keep waiting."

"I've got you on my list, _Whirling Whore_. Transmit the initiating code now."

Sam quickly punched in the code they'd been provided by their unidentified benefactor. That part was straightforward enough. However, even after the code cleared, the strict security made gaining entry like peeling an onion – there were more layers beneath. The initiating code was then used to generate an additional password. The problem was that the Corsairs lacked the closely guarded decryption programme needed to translate the code. Instead they had Sam.

"Looking good so far, _Whirling Whore_. What's today's magic word?"

The code flashed up onto the screen in front of Sam. Almost immediately her mind began working. At a glance she deduced the type of code and keyed up one of the decryption programmes she'd spent the week working on. It was far more advanced than anything she mucked around with in her university days. Sam unleashed the programme. Like a hound, it began ferreting through lines of code as she watched. Each successive layer was stripped away, almost effortlessly, but Sam felt the pressure of time. The password was supposed to have been generated instantly.

"Where does a girl go to get a drink down there, Gurkan?" Sam played for time.

"Depends if she's got a nice ass on her?" was the predictable reply.

"There are some damn fine arses on the Whore," Sam replied, being perfectly honest about the flesh on display. "Trust me, your boys aren't going to be short on company."

"Your voice alone is enough to make me fucking hard, sweet tits."

Sam wanted to gag at the thought, but she forced herself to laugh. Her programme was on the brink of a breakthrough. Everything was pounding. Her fingers. Her heartbeat. One foot tapped out a frenzied rhythm on the floor.

"I'll be needing that password, _Whirling Whore_."

"Amongst other things," Sam said in what she hoped was a sultry voice. She feared that it emerged as a panicked squeak. The password was so close so could almost smell it. There, she had it! She didn't know where the hell it came from, but an almost hysterical laugh bubbled from her lips. "The password is Blue rose of Ilium."

"Love that poem," the voice on the other end said with surprisingly sincerity. "Heard the poet died in the war. Tragic. He was a real talent. You're cleared to proceed, _Whirling Whore_. Welcome to Gurkan."

"Thank you," Sam replied.

She felt as though she was going to pass out. Instead she remained on her feet, albeit with the assistance of the console in front of her. She sagged with immense relief. If she'd expected some sort of congratulations or even gratitude when she finally looked up to meet the gazes that were directed at her, she received none. Instead, Ashley cleared her throat.

"Listen up. From this point forward there's no going back." Ashley regarded the assorted women and asari who made up her 'crew.' She caught Sam's eye. The hard expression on her face didn't waver, but the gaze lingered just long enough for Sam to know that it was meant to be reassuring. Sam responded with a taut nod, even as she wished that she were able to summon up even a fraction of Ashley's composure. "You all know what we're flying into. It's a pit full of the vilest mercs you'll ever cross. They will smell the fear on you and they will not hesitate to slit your throat if you fuck up. So don't fuck up. Stick to your cover stories, stick together, and we'll get the job done. The task at hand is the only thing that matters. There are a hell of a lot of people relying on us putting that Reaper out of commission, even if they don't know it. I'm not about to let them down."

Sam waited for something pithy about coming out alive, but it never came. Although she'd known all along that there was a high probability that they would all die, the threat had never felt so immediate.

"And now for the fun part," Ashley punctuated Sam's fears in a hard, determined voice.

The frigate began its approach trajectory towards Gurkan…and the Reaper.

* * *

 

**Gurkan, Terminus Systems**

Ashley previously thought that Erinle took the prize for being the vilest cesspit in the Galaxy. However as soon as her boots hit the inner airlock within Gurkan's main complex, she realised exactly how wrong she had been. The stench almost physically assaulted her as she entered. It slammed into her nostrils with the force of hundreds of unwashed bodies, alcohol, piss, vomit and other smells Ash knew she was better off not knowing. The pads of her fingers remained pressed against the bare skin of Kurin's lower back. The asari felt cold and clammy. Ash wondered how much of that was normal, and how much was fear.

Gurkan was not a nice place. Regardless of the icy cold persona she had adopted, she still didn't want Sam Traynor being exposed to anymore of it than was necessary. However as she turned to order Traynor back to the ship, she caught sight of their welcoming party. Two Krogan jostled for prominence at the forefront, both wearing the colours of Gurkan's de facto ruler, Aggra. They were followed by half a dozen henchmen, mostly Batarians, although there was one human.

"Calisto Callahan I presume?" The lead Krogan announced in a guttural growl. "Your reputation precedes you."

Ash left Kurin's side. She stepped forward and extended her hand. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Her gloved hand was dwarfed by that of the Krogan as he enveloped it in a massive, crushing grip. Ash smiled despite feeling as though every bone in her hand was about to break.

"I am Mrath, son of Aggra. This is my brother, Sarl." Mrath jerked his head to the much smaller Krogan at his side.

Ash had met the tank bred Krogan, Grunt, on several occasions. She could tell that Sarl was also relatively young. His head plates were yet to fuse. He was also nowhere near as menacing as his brother, wearing a grin on his face as he stared at the Corsairs with barely concealed pleasure.

"I am bid by my father to welcome you and personally invite you to a gathering in two days. You've arrived just in time, Calisto, big things are happening. The rest of the Galaxy will soon be trembling before us."

"Sounds fucking awesome," Ash replied, resisting the temptation to flex her fingers as soon as Mrath let them go. Still, it was so far so good. The identity that Liara had created was so far performing perfectly. "Didn't come all this way just to rub tits with a bunch of scumbags though. I want to see it."

"Saw it when you came in didn't you?" Mrath snorted.

Ash lurched forward. "I want to spit on the fucking thing! You may have been hiding in this hole during the war, but I lost a lot of good girls to the fucking Reapers."

"Watch your tone, human. I fought on Palaven for all the thanks I got from those damn Turian bastards."

"Yeah," Ash smiled in consolation. "For all the thanks we got from the Council or any of those fuckers. You help save the Galaxy and you're back to scraping out a living in the ass end of nowhere."

Mrath grinned. "I'm beginning to like you, Calisto. Follow me. You wanna get up close to our not-so-secret weapon? Be my guest."

As she followed Mrath and Sarl, Ash had to admit that Aggra's operation on Gurkan was impressive. It was a cesspit, but it was an impressive cesspit. It reminded her of Omega without Aria – an even more dangerous powder keg, liable to explode at any moment without the stabilising influence of an inflexible ruler.

At some point Gurkan had obviously been a mining facility. Probably Salarian or asari. Ash didn't know for sure and didn't care. Unlike Omega, it had been tapped out. The once functional dome-like structures were given over to a ramshackle collection of pre-fabs and temporary shelters. Above everything, at the heart of the settlement, the Reaper towered over Gurkan like a sinister sentinel.

"I've got to ask, what the hell is it doing here?" Ash asked, hoping she wasn't pushing her luck.

Mrath glanced over his shoulder. He puffed out his already impressive chest. "It was a gift to Clan Aggra."

"A gift?" Ash asked dubiously.

"Marking us as chosen," Mrath continued.

"In other words-" Kurin leaned close to Ash, whispering "-he doesn't have a fucking clue."

* * *

 

Despite constantly wishing she was someplace else, Sam banished her fear for long enough to appreciate the fact that she was within arm's length of an actual Reaper. There had been the hulks of course, empty shells spread like discarded technology throughout the Galaxy. Dead, lifeless rubbish.

The docking arm extending out from Gurkan's surface had been modified to fit the immense Reaper. Although the patchwork job around the seal worried Sam less than the glossy, midnight surface in front of her.

The Reaper in front of her was alive. Sam could feel it even before she approached. A vibrant hum that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. And a voice. It was indiscernible, not consisting of actual words but rather a constant murmuring. Much like the rushing of a river far off in the distance. She cast her glance towards Ash, Kurin, and the rest of the Corsairs, wondering if they too heard the voice. For some reason, Sam knew that she was the only one. A strange compulsion tugged at her hand. Her fingers twitched toward the Reaper's skin, but she forced herself to stop.

"You can touch it if you want."

Sam almost leapt out of her skin at the guttural sounds unleashed so close to her ear. She spun on her heels. Came face to face with an exceptionally broad grin on a face that only a mother could love…and even then Sam wasn't so sure.

"I've tried, it doesn't hurt," the Krogan continued.

"Um, I'd rather not. Quite happy just looking. Thanks," Sam said quickly. She turned her attention back to the Reaper, studying it intently in the hope that the Krogan would grow bored.

Minutes passed. Sam could still hear the faint whispering. It was quieter now. Difficult to make out over the voices around her, but still very much present. It was both unnerving and fascinating. Without realising entirely what she was doing, Sam peeled off her glove. Her bare fingertips she extended towards the dark skin. No one else seemed to be paying any attention to her. The pads of her fingers pressed against the Reaper for the barest second.

_{Samantha Traynor.}_

Sam jerked her hand back as though burned. Someone…or something, had clearly whispered her name. She glanced around. Jumped when she saw that the Krogan was still watching her.

"Was it you? Did you say my name?" she asked cautiously.

He chuckled. It was a low, almost gentle rumble. "I would gladly say it if I knew it," he replied. "I am Sarl."

"Sarl?" Sam repeated. A memory triggered. She suddenly remembered hearing him introduced as the brother of the loud brute that was currently talking to Ash. The son of Aggra, the clan chief who ruled Gurkan. "Oh…" she whispered. He stood staring at her expectantly and Sam realised that he was waiting for her name. "I'm Traynor, Sam Traynor." She wished that someone had seen fit to give her a pirate name like Calisto Callahan, but she was stuck with plain old Sam Traynor. Still, who exactly was she trying to impress? Sarl, son of Aggra?

"Do I call you Traynor…Sam, or Sam Traynor?" Sarl asked, his heavyset brow furrowed deeply. "Human names are confusing."

"Um, Sam I guess," she offered. She still hadn't forgotten that the Reaper seemed to know her name. That and the fact that a Krogan was hitting on her. Sam wasn't sure which unnerved her more. The entire group eventually began walking away from the Reaper. Sam longed to be able to eavesdrop on the conversation between Mrath and Ashley, but instead she was stuck near the back, talking with a Krogan. Albeit a very friendly one. "So…nice operation your Dad has here."

"Yeah, I guess," he rumbled. He leaned a little closer to Sam and whispered conspiratorially, "This thing kinda gives me the creeps though." He said it as though the Reaper might overhear them.

"My hair is standing on end," Sam agreed. She scrubbed at the back of her neck. The shaven area there was prickly. She suddenly missed the comfort of having a full weight of hair on her head.

"So, how does a human female like you end up as a pirate?" Sarl asked.

"You know," Sam shrugged. "Bad role models, bad life choices. Still, Calisto's better than most – she keeps the flogging to a minimum."

"She flogs you?" Sarl sounded outraged.

"No, it was a joke," Sam replied quickly. "No flogging, just boozing and whoring, like a proper pirate." _Like a proper pirate? Sam, who the hell are you trying to fool? You're a bloody pathetic pirate._

She was so busy beating herself up about being a crap pirate that she didn't see a discarded piece of rubble lying in her path. Her shin smacked against it painfully and she stumbled forward. The only thing between her and an embarrassingly painful collision with the ground was a very solid, Krogan-sized arm. Sarl swept her to one side. His huge faced creased with concern.

"It's a minefield on this shithole," he warned her. "Be careful."

"Yeah, of course," Sam mumbled. _When I said I would start dating, this isn't exactly what I had in mind_ , she thought with an awkward grin.

"So, this boozing that you pirate girls do," Sarl said quietly – or at least as quietly as it was possible for a Krogan to speak. "Do you ever do it in private, perhaps over a fine Thessian Red?"

 _Oh shit_ , Sam's grin turned into a grimace.

* * *

 

After spending two days on Gurkan, Ash felt soiled in a way that felt as though it would stay with her forever. No amount of showers would be able to scrub the filth from her skin or the memories of what she had witnessed. Gurkan was nothing like Omega. It was immeasurably more lawless, if that were possible. On Omega everything was done in the shadows. Murder. Fucking. On Gurkan it was done in the open. Ash's Corsairs had already foiled several attempts on her life. She'd personally sliced the tentacle off a hanar who got a more than a slight grope of her ass cheek. Not to mention the dozens who had dared to proposition Kurin. Ash fervently hoped that she'd made her position clear. Her knuckles were already red raw. The big meeting that Mrath had promised couldn't come soon enough.

Ashley's actual experience with the Krogan race was relatively limited. There were the ones that had spent a great deal of time trying to kill her of course, but she was no longer that young marine who readily stereotyped all aliens as untrustworthy and to be avoided. She counted Wrex as a friend, but the old son of a bitch was softer than he cared to admit. The Krogan of Clan Aggra were something else altogether. Ambitious, buoyed by the belief of being 'chosen,' they were dangerous and unpredictable. The Clan chief himself, Aggra, was a battle-scarred warrior who carried himself with an air of arrogance. He had barely a word of acknowledgment for the Calisto and her Corsairs. _Not a bad thing_ , Ash thought as she settled into her place amongst the merc leaders and their designates.

The gathering place had at one point been an industrial area, probably filled with mining equipment judging by the scraps still left fixed in place. Now it was largely empty save for the remaining equipment, trash and gangways up above. Almost every available spot was taken. Aggra took his place at the front of the room, seated on something that could have been called a throne. Ash noted with interest that neither of his sons sat at his side. Mrath was almost seated opposite, just below the Corsairs. Sarl had actually approached them, craning his thick neck for a glimpse of someone. Ashley supposed he was looking for Sam. She'd fielded several panicked questions from the young woman, seeking advice as to how to deal with her Krogan suitor. Ash had simply advised her to stay out of the way. The Ops Chief had remained on board the _Whirling Whore_ on Ashley's orders. Upon seeing the disappointed expression on Sarl's face, Ash almost felt sorry for him. As far as Krogan went, he did seem kind of sweet.

Although immense, the space was almost unbearably hot and stuffy. Ash had a thin sheen of sweat covering her forehead and more trickling down the back of her neck. Kurin settled, instinctively, on her lap. Half a dozen Corsairs took places around them, like a protective shield. As Kurin absently stroked Ash's hair away from her forehead Ash questioned, not for the first time, just how much the asari was enjoying her role. It was difficult to tell. The real Kurin was buried beneath layers of well-feigned subservience and oddly compelling affection. _You have a partner_ , Ash reminded herself, almost wincing as Kurin kissed the side of her neck. The kiss wasn't horrible, and that was the problem.

"You're too tense," Kurin mouthed against her ear. "Relax a little. Try to look more like a caged nathak, less like a skewered pyjak."

“And you need to stop looking like you’re the one giving the orders,” Ash growled.

“Then let’s go somewhere private.”

Ash's gaze darted from side to side. Although Aggra had made no move to stand and commence his address, it could only be a matter of minutes. “The meeting’s about to start!”

“And Calisto Callahan desperately wants a last minute fuck,” Kurin whispered.

With a guttural growl of irritation, Ash rose to her feet and levered Kurin up with her. She motioned for the rest of the Corsairs to stay put. She hustled Kurin from the main space, noticing a few catcalls and whistles as they left.

In the quiet of a dark alcove half a minute later, Ash felt sick to her stomach. Kurin shrugged off her act, returning to the experienced commando she was.

"You need to tread carefully here, Williams," Kurin explained in a matter-of-fact tone. "You want to show your support, but not be so vocal as to draw attention to yourself."

"Gotcha."

Ash blinked in the semi-darkness. She was tired, anxious and aroused beyond all reasonable limits. If this was what it truly meant to be a SpecTRe, then Ash didn't know whether she was cut out to be one. She preferred the simplicity of a rifle and a target. For a long moment, she sagged against the wall behind her. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess.

"Williams…Ashley? Look at me," Kurin insisted.

Reluctantly, Ash met the asari's eyes. They were dark, glistening orbs. Impossible to read. Impossible to resist. Ash kissed her. Soundly. Without pretext, without any need to convince others that this life was real. If Kurin was stunned by the sudden move, she didn't let it show. Instead the commando responded, her eagerness apparent in the small things. The small moan that escaped her lips. The way her body undulated forward, seeking friction.

Kissing Kurin was nothing like kissing Miranda. Instead, Kurin's lips were both hot and cold beneath Ash's own. The texture was hard and soft, but continually drawing her in deeper. Ash didn't resist. She was so hungry.

An indeterminate amount of time passed. Ash finally forced an end to the kiss before things got out of hand. Pressing both hands to Kurin's chest, she placed some much-needed distance between them. Her ragged breaths made pushing the incident to the back of her mind impossible.

"This doesn't mean…" Ash's voice trailed off. _Doesn't mean what? That I want to fuck someone other than Miranda? Fuck!_ "Can we just get back out there. I know what I have to do."

Kurin's grin was broad. Her teeth flashed. A proper shit-eating grin. It seemed like this was fun for her. Ash was out of her depth.

"I'm supporting that fat mother-fucker, check. Is there any point where I get to wipe the smile off his asshole son's face?"

"You're wasted as a marine, Williams," Kurin replied. "You were born to be a pirate."

They managed to return to their seats without further incident. Ash made an exaggerated show of doing up her belt before she sat down. Kurin adopted her now familiar position draped across Ash's lap. _That_ wasn't helping matters in the slightest.

"I need a fucking drink," Ash murmured as Aggra stood to an enthusiastic applause.

"My friends!" Aggra commenced as the noise died slightly. "You've all seen the power wielded by Clan Aggra. The beast that towers above us. Our enemy, now our greatest weapon. However all of this is useless without your support."

"We beat the damned Reapers. How the hell is one going to help us?" someone called out.

"The Shepard defeated the Reapers, and in case you didn't hear, she's fucking dead," Aggra replied in a booming voice. "You either stand with us, or we mow you down like the rest of the cannon fodder out there."

As Aggra continued, Ash kept one eye on the crowd. Mercs lived for a fight, and those gathered on Gurkan were no different. Despite some lingering scepticism they were desperate for someone to lead them out of the cesspit of the Terminus Systems. They wanted dues that they felt they were owed. Ash didn't even want to think about the ramifications of a merc fleet running around the Galaxy with a Reaper at the forefront.

When the last round of cheers faded, Ash had long since realised that the Council had a serious problem in the form of one ambitious Krogan and one fucking intact Reaper.

By now Aggra was on his feet, buoyed by the support of the crowd. "Too long have we been exiled to the outskirts. It is time to take our place, to make the rest of the Galaxy take note of the outsiders and the others. Only when we are standing on their bloody corpses will they realise their mistake in ignoring us."

As the crowd rose, Ash also found herself on her feet, fist in the air. Shouts she didn't even recognise came from her throat. Amongst the thoughts jostling for position in her head, she wondered whether Miranda would even recognise her. She didn't recognise herself.

Following Aggra's speech, the mood changed again when the alcohol started flowing. Ash found herself with a much needed drink in her hand, but she sipped it sparingly, knowing that she needed a clear head for what was to come.

"He has the support of practically everyone here," Ash said to Kurin. The extent to which she relied on the asari was unnerving. "What would this mean? If these assholes were to strike as a Fleet?"

"If the Reaper isn't as active as they claim it to be, trouble," Kurin replied. "On the other hand, if it is…catastrophe."

Almost as if to punctuate Kurin's words, the walls around them suddenly started to reverberate. Shouts of alarm went up from amongst some of the mercs, although the crazier ones laughed instead. Ash glanced skywards. The Reaper filled the entire view from the domed roof. It was arched in attack mode, much as it had been in the brief vid clip Ash had viewed. Pincers spread wide. Red light sparked at its core, gathering there before arcing out across the field of view above them, slicing through vacuum. It was blindingly bright. Ash had to avert her eyes. Even then, all she could see for a few moments was red.

"Catastrophe then," she said in a flat voice.

Ash was so enraptured with the light show above, that she did not hear Mrath trying to get her attention. It wasn't until Kurin hissed in a low, throaty sound, that Ash realised the Krogan was directing his words towards her.

"Calisto my friend, how much for your pet?" Mrath demanded.

"What pet?" Ash asked.

Mrath laughed throatily. "Just how many luscious blue whores do you have draped over yourself at this point in time?"

His words eventually registered. It dawned on Ash that Mrath was asking how much she wanted for Kurin, after all, the asari was supposedly a commodity. "Fuck" Ash whispered succinctly.

Seemingly unresponsive or blithely unconcerned, Kurin nibbled on Ash's earlobe. Such attentions would have usually earned some form of arousal, but she felt nothing other than a cold dread in the pit of her stomach. With a sickening certainty, Ash knew she'd fucked up already. The Corsairs were supposed to be mere background fodder, just another band of thugs drawn by the promise of power. Instead she'd managed to elevate herself to a level of spectacle that she hadn't anticipated. Or perhaps the blame for everything could be placed squarely on Kurin and her lithe figure.

"A round two hundred and fifty thousand," Mrath offered. The price of a life.

"Sell me," Kurin hissed in Ash's ear. The asari had been listening intently all along, weighing her own options and deciding that sacrifice was better than the alternative. Any protest Ash was about to offer was cut short as Kurin clamped her teeth down hard on the tender flesh of her earlobe. "You need to submit. Give me to him to show your support."

"Like fuck I will," Ash replied hotly. Kurin maintained the pretext of the dutiful slave with no voice in her own fate. However her entire body had gone rigid in Ashley's arms. "That's not an option."

Ever so slowly, Kurin moved, bringing her gaze up to meet Ashley's. Although there was no trace of fear in her eyes, Ash still wasn't prepared to take her advice. When Kurin began kissing her, it was more of a battle than a caress. Her teeth nipped and tugged painfully at Ash's lips. Ash tasted a metallic tang in her mouth as Kurin drew blood. All around them, the once boisterous mercs had almost fallen into utter silence. Behind them both, Mrath let out of mocking guffaw that filled the lull completely.

"You want one last night with your pet, then have it. Fuck her, leave your scent upon her, but I will have an answer now. Do we have a deal, Calisto?" he demanded.

Ash knew that the entire crew had gone into the mission prepared to die to see it done. Suicide was not the intention, only duty. Yet Ash was beginning to understand the one vital aspect of command that she had yet to experience – deliberately sending her crew to die. She had thought that when the time came, that she would be able to detach herself from her personal feelings and make the order. Otherwise what business did she have being in command? Handing Kurin over to Mrath would even be beneficial. She met the asari commando's gaze. Noted the determination and the urgency that resided there.

"You know what this means," Ash whispered, licking the blood from her lips.

"Yes," Kurin replied.

In that moment Ash wished that she were sending Kurin to her death. It would almost have been easier.

"You can do this, Calisto," Kurin added, reminding Ashley of who she was. Where she was. "You have to sell me."

It was barely perceptible, but Ash caught the slight catch in the young commando's voice. Kurin's training failed her for a split second, long enough for a glimpse of terror to show through. Something descended over Ash's entire body, replacing the dread and mounting panic. A kind of cool, logical anger that gave her clarity. She made light work of bodily shoving Kurin from her lap as she stood. Ignoring the asari's fall, Ash kept her eyes fixed squarely on Mrath. The Krogan had a predatory grin on his face as she approached. However it faded when he realised that Ash was not coming to him as a supplicant, but as a rival. With the entire room looking on, Ash lunged forward and spat in his face. A gob of spittle landed directly in his eye. Mrath didn't respond, but one of his Batarian sycophants leapt to his feet. His shout of outrage was abruptly cut short as Ash's gloved fist slammed into his face, catching him off guard. The strike was barely enough to knock him off balance. The second however, smashing down hard, sent him sprawling to the floor. A further kick to the head rendered him completely senseless. Ash's entire body thrummed as she stepped over the limp body. Mrath regarded her calmly, a spark of amusement in his expression. Or at least Ash hoped it was amusement.

"Not sure I like your bargaining tactics human," he growled.

Those around him were agitating, fingers twitching towards guns, knives or anything else close to hand. At her back, Ash knew her own crew would be doing the same. It was a volatile powder keg. About to go up in flames.

"I don't give a fuck what you like, you son of a bitch." _Don't push him too hard_ , Ash reminded herself. "You want to buy my favourite slave? Well she's not for sale-" Mrath started forward in anger. Shouts went up. Demands for her blood…and worse. "You want her? Then fight for her if you've got a quad. Knives, fists, I don't give a fuck. Victor gets her, no creds required."

At first Ash thought he wasn't going to buy it. Mrath remained stony-faced, leaning forward. Just one arm's length away from reaching out and snapping her neck.

"Don't tell me you're pyjak-shit. Scared to take on a human female?" Ash pushed him a little harder.

Mrath suddenly threw back his head and guffawed heartily. He slapped both his palms against his armoured thighs enthusiastically. "You've got a deal! There won't be much sport in it, but I love getting something expensive for free! I like you, Calisto. You've got a fucking quad. Since I like you so much I'm going to give you one last night with your pet. Make the most of it. This time tomorrow I'll be showing her what it's like to be properly fucked and you'll be dead…or close to it."

Ash forced a broad smile onto her face. She felt her facial muscles strain with the effort. Her eyes bulged. She knew she looked the part – batshit crazy _. You are crazy, Williams. Crazy and utterly fucked_. She turned her back on Mrath. During the walk back to Kurin and her crew, she was subjected to a riotous clamour of vulgar shouts. Most were needlessly explaining what Mrath would do to her asari when he won. It was easy to block them out. The blood pounding between her ears rendered all other sounds distant.

Kurin stood to meet her. Outwardly demure and dutiful as she wrapped her arms around Ashley's neck and kissed her. The gesture was completely at odds with the fierce anger in her eyes.

"What the hell have you done?" the commando whispered.

Ash knew exactly what Kurin was thinking. She'd thrown both of them onto the pyre. She was going to die and Kurin would end up as Mrath's slave regardless. With the commando still protesting with everything except her voice, Ash grabbed her upper arm and began dragging her out of the gathering space. The rest of the crew followed, all wearing stunned expressions. Behind them the shouts continued, but Mrath's voice could clearly be heard above everything.

"My boy's will be watching you, Calisto. You'd better still be on this rock in eight hours."

Once outside in the wide expanse of the dome itself, Ash drew in a lungful of stale, sweaty air. She wished, just for a moment, that she was back on Sirona. Her childhood home. The air there was always crisp and clean. A sharp crack across her face drove her straight back into her dirty reality. Kurin was beyond furious.

"You've condemned us both you Goddess-damned fool!"

"Whatever happens tomorrow, I've brought us some time," Ashley explained, already moving. She knew Mrath would be true to his word. The docking clamps on the _Whirling Whore_ would be locked down tight, ensuring no escape.

"Time for what?" Kurin demanded. The asari was trying to keep her voice down but her anger made it difficult. There was a shrill edge to her usually gruff voice.

"For fuck's sake, not here," Ash said coldly. It would look even worse to have her slave publicly berating her. She held onto her anger. She needed it to keep from descending into absolute panic.

* * *

 

The whole mission was turning into somewhat of an anti-climax for Sam. She'd already done her part. Although it had been exciting to say the least. The sheer blood pounding thrill had reminded her of university challenges. An intrepid team of intellectuals banding together to take on rivals. Of course the stakes at university had merely been the humiliation of defeat as opposed to the brutal finality of death. Then there was the problem of half a ton of virile Krogan lusting after her, but Sam had to admit she was slightly flattered by Sarl's attentions. It was also easily solved by not leaving the _Whirling Whore_. Sarl hadn't been dissuaded. He'd sent her several gifts – including a badly written, but extremely sweet, attempt at poetry. When she wasn't chuckling over the latest gift, Sam spent her time monitoring the comms coming in and out of Gurkan. She bounced lightly from channel to channel, careful not to linger overly long in case she was detected.

Most of the traffic was mundane. However a few channels were so heavily encrypted that Sam had yet to break all of them. Those she had cracked were the private comms of various merc groups. For the most part they seemed to be in complete cahoots with Aggra. Only one signal had caused Sam actual concern. Although it was almost unrecognisable, Sam would have bet a year's wages that it was Alliance in origin.

She was still battling with a particularly devilish encryption key when Ashely and the rest of the team returned to the _Whirling Whore._ The bootfalls on the deck were particularly urgent. Sam opened her mouth to inform Ashley about the Alliance signal, but she was cut short by the furious interaction between her Captain and Kurin.

"You cannot possibly be hinging the success of the entire mission on her?" Kurin spoke as though Sam wasn't in the room. "She's a tech rat, not even combat trained."

"I've been training her," Ashley replied. "Traynor can handle herself…and she's the only one in any position to gain access quickly."

"Gain access?" Sam piped up. It didn't sound good. She was almost afraid to ask the next part. "Where?"

"The Reaper," Ashley replied brusquely. The Captain was still facing Kurin. "Look me in the eye and tell me this isn't the only option."

"It _is_ the only option!" Kurin yelled. "It's the only option because you're a sentimental idiot incapable of making the hard calls. You know you should have sold me to Mrath. If you'd done that, then everything would be progressing as planned."

Ashley's sigh was audible. "I couldn't do that to you."

"You should have," Kurin said coldly. "Without a moment's hesitation. Who's to say that I wouldn't have been able to escape eventually? Do you even know what it takes to be a commando, Williams? What they train us for?"

"No, but I know you, Tasha." Ashley's voice was more controlled. "And you're not as hard as you make yourself out to be. You would have been broken."

Kurin's hand darted out. There were no biotics behind the slap, just raw physical anger. Ashley stumbled backwards, almost knocking Sam off her feet. Kurin stormed from the room without a further word.

Sam was left holding Ashley. She expected the Captain to pull away, instead she sagged to the point where Sam had to support most of her weight.

"Calisto? Are you okay?"

"No, please call me Ashley, just for now," the other woman said in a quiet voice.

The silence lingered for a moment longer. When Ashley didn't move, Sam tightened her hold. The resulting embrace was awkward. Sam had to press her cheek up against a ceramic shoulder plate. It was hard and uncomfortable. Her muscles were also starting to cramp with the effort of holding herself in the position. Ashley finally straightened. When she turned to face Sam, her features had settled once again behind a mask a calm. Sam drew strength from this.

"What do you need me to do, Ashley?" Sam asked. In that moment she was willing to do absolutely anything that was asked of her.

For both their sake's, Sam ignored the tear tracks on the Captain's face.

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

"You know you cannot do anything more for Ashley."

Shepard dragged her eyes away from the screens in front of her, but she did not immediately look at Liara. She'd spent so long staring at the feeds that she needed to refocus. The floor tiles eventually stopped swirling like a galaxy map but still she couldn't look up. Soft footsteps followed. Liara's bare feet came into view. She'd obviously come from their bed. It meant that Shepard had been standing in an ineffective state of anxiety for longer than she had thought. _Normandy_ , _Pserimos_ , and _Whirling Whore_ had entered into radio silence hours earlier. No news was expected. Possibly for days. Shepard had yet to accept that there was nothing she could do. Standing, with Liara's network at her fingertips, she at least had the power to do something if it was needed. She doubted whether her mind could quiet enough for sleep. However when Liara stepped forward and embraced her, Shepard felt her body sag with exhaustion. She instinctively burrowed into the crook of Liara's neck. Bed warmth lingered on her bondmate's skin. She inhaled deeply, using Liara's scent to invigorate her dull senses.

"I've got a really bad feeling about this whole thing, Li," Shepard admitted in a soft voice. Her lips brushed against Liara's familiar gorgeously textured skin as she spoke. Despite everything she couldn't resist depositing several soft kisses.

"There's nothing you can do, Evan," Liara urged. "Come to bed."

Shepard's arms tightened around Liara. Holding her bondmate was the most tangible thing she could do. Plus it felt good. She hoped that the physical contact would take away some of the dread lingering in the pit of her stomach.

"I just thought, as long as I'm standing here…" Shepard began. Anything she said was redundant. She had to accept the fact that she wasn't on that rock with Ashley.

Her resistance crumbled. Liara felt it and gently cajoled her in the direction of their bed. All Shepard had to do was walk in a shuffling gait, then obediently raise and lower her arms as Liara divested her of clothing.

"Will I be able to live with myself if something happens to her? To the crew?" She'd asked the same question at least once a day. The answer she gave herself changed each time, but mostly she was left wondering.

"Yes, because you will continue to live regardless," Liara said, not unkindly. She propelled Shepard toward the bed.

"If something did happen, I'd lose Miranda as well. She would never forgive me," Shepard said as the covers were piled atop her cold body. Liara tucked them up around her head, tenderly covering her ears in the way she liked.

Liara placed a kiss on her forehead. "You need to stop, Evan. We have played our part. If the worst does happen, then we will deal with it. In the meantime, as far as we know, everything is progressing according to plan."

Shepard lay with her eyes closed, listening as Liara padded around the room. A few moments later, Shepard felt her weight on the bed beside her. Liara then embraced her from behind, drawing their bodies close together.

"Go to sleep," Liara ordered in a tone of finality.

The room descended into silence. Less than a minute later, Shepard heard the soft sound of Liara's delicate snores. Her bondmate was exhausted. She knew she ought to feel the same, but sleep wouldn't take her. The tangled knot in her stomach kept her awake deep into the night.

 


	32. The Fan and the Excrement

C **hapter Thirty-two  
The Fan and the Excrement**

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

Shepard was the first to admit that she was crap at meditating. It wasn't because she lacked patience, it was boring as fuck. Not to mention entirely pointless. She found her own stillness in other places, by other means. The physicality of exercise for one. Sweat, pounding heartbeats, and exhaustion. When Samara told her to clear her mind in an annoyingly calm voice, she raged internally against the futility of emptying her head. Trying not to think only led to more thoughts. Too many thoughts tumbling in over one another. Plus sitting cross-legged on the floor was making her knees hurt.

The only reason that she remained sitting, bored and with a numb arse, was the need to set a good example for Mycea. The young asari sat nearby. Not quite close enough to touch, but close enough for Shepard to feel the impatience radiating off her body. Shepard's eyes were closed, but she could hear Myke's foot tapping out an urgent rhythm on the floor. A curt grunt from Samara caused the sound to end abruptly and the room descended into silence once more. Samara spoke intermittently, but Shepard found it difficult to concentrate on her words.

Instead she listened to the sound of her own breathing. She soon settled into a perfect rhythm, perhaps even finding the elusive clarity that Samara spoke of. Drifting in a contented haze…

_It was quiet, empty. Shepard found herself standing at Ash's side. There was nothing unusual about this. It was always the way it had been. It simply felt right to be standing next to Ash. Her friend turned and gave her a rueful look that caused Shepard to frown._

" _Are things that bad, Williams?"_

" _I don't know, Skipper," Ash replied, turning away. Her gaze grew distant. "You tell me."_

_Both the quietness and the emptiness were abruptly shattered at the same time. It was a jarring transition, but the resulting chaos was so familiar that Shepard's pulse barely kicked up a notch. She recognised the music straight away. War. The staccato rhythm of bullets, punctuated by the chorus of the dying. Heavy, thudding explosions acting as the bass. Someone was playing Shepard's song. Instinctively, she reached for her rifle. Her fingers grasped at nothing but air._

" _You're not dressed for the part," Ash pointed out in flat voice._

_Shepard glanced down at herself. Instead of armour she was wearing her familiar cargos and a worn hoodie. Conversely Ash was dressed for battle. Full combat armour. Valkyrie rifle tucked into the crook of her shoulder in preparation for firing. Her expression clearly showed disappointment, as though Shepard was letting down the Marine Corps. Shepard turned away. She looked towards the battlefield which was now below them. Although she couldn't see an enemy, her experienced eye picked out the fields of fire and the clear routes of assault._

" _I need to go, Skipper." Ash started moving down the slope. There was no one else with her._

" _Where's the rest of your unit?" Shepard glanced around in alarm._

_Ash looked over her shoulder briefly, a sad smile on her face. "I need to do this alone." Her legs began moving faster as she picked her pace. Barrelling down the slope, directly towards a clear kill zone._

" _Like hell you are!" Shepard replied fiercely._

_She too was running, scrambling after Ash. Although her combat boots should have kept a decent hold, she found herself slipping and sliding in the suddenly muddy surface. Despite strenuous effort, she couldn't stay on her feet. She spent more time picking herself up or sliding uncontrolled in a direction she didn't want to go. Unable to keep up with Ashley, Shepard was forced to watch her friend charging forward, growing increasingly distant. All the while she tried to yell out warnings, but her voice was swallowed in the chaos. She couldn't understand why Ash was unable to see the same dangers that were so clearly laid out in front of her. A frontal assault was nothing short of suicide. Not to mention the fact that the bombardment was growing in intensity with every passing moment._

_Her hands and arms caked in mud, Shepard was reduced to scrambling forward on her hands and knees. Her frustration mounted to the point where she was almost sobbing. Heavy artillery was throwing up showers of debris, almost completely obscuring her view of Ash. Desperation drove her to make one final effort to get back on her feet. She made it just in time to see Ash's body flying through the air in a tangle of limbs. The scream that tore from her throat emerged as little more than a weak cry._

"Ash!" Shepard's entire body jerked, snapping her back into wakefulness.

She opened her eyes to find both Samara and Myke staring at her. The former wore an expression of intense disapproval, while Myke was openly smirking. Not only had her sharp cry obviously been audible, Shepard could feel a thin trickle of drool at the corner of her mouth. She swiped it away in a deliberate motion.

"I think that will conclude our instruction," Samara intoned. "For today day at least."

"Great!" Myke said with slightly too much enthusiasm. It was made even worse as she slapped her palms against her thighs and stood hurriedly. All of this was accomplished while Shepard was still wiping the drool from her chin. "Are you going to sit there all day, Evan? I'm starving."

Shepard shared a look with Samara. Where she had previously seen disapproval, there was now a visible element of concern. As she stood, she responded to Samara with a slight shake of her head. Processing her feelings was the last thing she wanted. She didn't need anyone else to tell her that she'd let Ash down. What she needed was to do something that didn't involve an overabundance of time to think.

Very little time elapsed between Myke uttering half-hearted thanks and making a beeline for the door. Shepard lingered in Samara's spartan living space out of courtesy, making a few quiet murmurs of apology for the behaviour of her young friend. Samara appeared unconcerned that the first lesson had been so obviously unproductive, promising that the lessons would continue.

"Well that was undeniably shit," Myke announced as they walked together. "I thought it was going to be about busting heads. If I wanted to spend hours with my eyes closed, I'd do it horizontally, in bed."

"Samara is over 900 years old, Myke," Shepard reminded her. "Trust me when I say that she knows a thing or two. Besides, don't you think you could do with a little time to relax? Calm down? I found it interesting." 

"Listen to you. _Interesting?_ Ha! You were asleep and drooling in five minutes," Myke chortled. "Now that's the real lesson. Can you teach me how to sleep sitting up? Or better yet, can't we just ditch the justicar? You know all about fighting without biotics and you'd be a hell of a lot more fun than Samara."

Shepard sighed. She didn't have to look at Myke to imagine the earnest, hopeful expression on her face. Clearly Samara would seem like a killjoy to a young asari who had never known discipline. However, Samara had also never stopped training. Never stopped striving to be perfect in everything she did. Shepard had driven herself to the brink of physical breakdown even before she had spent over half a year in stasis and a further month being tortured by the Alliance. Although her strength returned at an unprecedented rate, the subsequent months on Omega simply hadn't given her enough time to restore her body to peak condition.

It was one of the reasons why she couldn't help Ash. Nor did Shepard want to disappoint Myke by having her find out that her hero was something less than expected. Sure she had taken on a few of Aria's lowlife mercs, but even that encounter had wiped her out. She stopped walking and turned to face Myke.

The young asari sensed what was coming and rolled her eyes. "You're turning me down."

"Hey. You're better off with Samara," Shepard reiterated gently. It wasn't enough to wipe the petulant expression from Myke's face. "When I was starting out as a boot marine, I thought my drill instructor was a sadistic bitch who hated my guts. I would've quit but I knew that's exactly what my mother was waiting for. I stuck to my training. It turned out that the instructor was pushing me because she knew I'd be a hell of a marine if I sorted my shit out." Shepard clearly remembered herself as the lost young woman who had gone into boot camp for the sole reason of defying her mother. She'd emerged as a marine and hadn't looked back. "Look, I'm not saying that you're in the same place that I was back then, but give Samara a chance. You don't have to become best friends, but she might grow on you."

"I suppose you're making some sense," Myke admitted grudgingly. "About the giving her a chance part. I'm sure as hell not becoming her friend. Not so long as she continues with all that code bullshit. The code dictates that you are not allowed to have any fun whatsoever," she continued, mimicking Samara's tone. "No alcohol, fried food or fornicating with strippers."

Shepard gave her friend a sharp look. The young asari was incorrigible. "If you don't stop mocking her like that, I can't be responsible for what happens to you," she warned Myke. Still, she couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto her face. She studied Myke as they resumed walking. The asari was still grinning, obviously unconcerned by Shepard's warning. "Hey, can I ask you something? I meant to talk to you about it earlier…and it might be a little personal, so feel free to tell me to piss off. Afterlife…the other week. I presume what Samara said was true? Would you really have…with a dancer?"

Myke's grin faded and she shrugged sullenly. "I dunno. Probably yeah. I mean, she was hot. Why? Are you trying to judge me?"

"No, not in the slightest," Shepard reassured her. "This is just me doing what a friend is supposed to do...and obviously doing it very badly. I mean…don't you want to save you first time for someone…who means something to you?"

This time it was Myke who stopped walking. "That was always the plan, but I'm 96. It's beyond ridiculous. Other asari think I'm pathetic. Unless they're on _her_ payroll, they don't look twice at me. Shit-" Myke slapped herself on the forehead "-T'Loak was probably paying that dancer a fucking fortune. Be honest with me, Evan, do you think I'm pathetic?"

"Nope," Shepard replied quickly. Myke was many things, but pathetic had never been one of them. "You are most certainly not pathetic. You're a…little naïve perhaps-" Myke's face fell slightly "-but you're also hilarious, a loyal friend…and really quite striking."

Myke brightened, and then frowned. "Striking as in pretty? Really?"

Shepard grinned. "Don't let it go to your head, Kasos, but yeah."

The resulting smug smile on Myke's face made everything worthwhile. The momentary embarrassment of asking the initial question, even the morning spent meditating. They walked in companionable silence. Given Samara's purpose in coming to Omega. It made sense for her to live nearby. It was too close for Myke's liking, but it gave Shepard peace of mind to know the justicar was close at hand. She was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with Liara. Her bondmate would no doubt be shut away in her lair, but Shepard had ways and means of enticing her away from work.

"Hey, you got anything to eat at your place?" Myke asked, interrupting Shepard's pleasant train of thought.

"Don't you have any food of your own?" Shepard replied.

"Nope."

"You do get paid you know," Shepard reminded her. She sighed as Myke followed her to her apartment. Her plans would have to be put on hold.

"I'd rather eat your food," Myke admitted.

"Well, at least you're honest," Shepard said as they entered. It was warm inside and she stripped off her hoodie. Myke was already crossing the room towards the fridge. "There should be some leftovers in there. Help yourself. I'm going to see if I can pry Liara away from her work."

Sure enough, Liara was working. Shepard briefly thought that she would probably die of shock the day she walked in and found her bondmate _not_ working. She took up her customary position, leaning against the doorframe. Contentedly watching Liara work for several moments.

"You know, one day I'll walk in here and you'll be using one of your feeds to stream porn," Shepard said softly.

The speed with which Liara turned and the accompanying horrified expression on her face caused Shepard to laugh aloud.

"That's not remotely funny," Liara chastised her without a trace of humour.

Not to be dissuaded by the fact that Liara was unimpressed by her joke, Shepard moved in for a hug. Liara was unresponsive at first, still protesting. However she soon melted as Shepard started to trail kisses up her exposed skin, culminating in a breathless sigh as Shepard nuzzled the sensitive folds at the nape of her neck.

"Hey, Evan?" a loud voice from downstairs interrupted the moment. "You got anything to drink?"

Liara let out an indulgent sigh. She twisted her head. Her lips brushed against Shepard's cheek as she spoke, "You invited Mycea over."

"To be fair, she invited herself," Shepard pointed out. "And you need to take a break."

"I would be more than happy to take a break…but with _you_!" Liara protested as she twisted out of Shepard's embrace. She leaned back against her console and folded her arms. "However, you seemed to be joined at the hip with your much shorter, definitely bluer, twin." Liara paused, pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You are trying to keep your mind occupied, away from thoughts about Ashley."

"I'm always thinking about Ash, but I'd rather not talk about it," Shepard insisted. "Or at least I don't need to talk about it. I can't actually do anything for her…not now."

Liara lowered her gaze. "I am sorry. I could be doing more to support you. Let me just finish one last piece of work, then I will join you for lunch."

"I'm sorry Myke's here-"

"You do not need to be," Liara interrupted as she turned her attention back to her work. She continued talking as she resumed working, "She is…oddly charming. Contrary to what she thinks, I enjoy spending time with her…in small doses of course."

"I think she is still under the impression that you hate her," Shepard pointed out. Myke did profess to like Liara, but she was always slightly guarded in her presence. A thought suddenly crossed her mind. "You know, it might be a good idea for you to spend more time with her. I think she needs the company of other asari…or at least those that aren't strippers…or mercs. Plus she's not exactly sold on Samara."

Liara paused. "I do not have anything in common with Mycea…other than our mutual infatuation with you."

Shepard snorted. "Myke's not infatuated with me!"

"I do not mean romantically. Hero worship. Call it what you will. She is devoted to you," Liara attempted to explain.

"Well, great. You can both spend lunch telling me how amazing I am," Shepard said as she gently wrapped her arm around Liara's waist and attempted to drag her away from the console.

Liara dug her heels in for a few moments, but it lasted only so long as Shepard's next attempt to kiss her. She responded, eagerly now that she had resigned herself to the fact that she was being dragged away from her work. She twisted again in Shepard's arms, this time towards her. Shepard didn't require a second invitation to press their lips together. Another soft sigh escaped Liara's lips. A loud crash reverberated out from downstairs. Reluctantly Shepard put a little space between them and offered an apologetic smile.

"We keep doing this and we are not going to make it to the kitchen," Liara murmured. "Or what is left of our kitchen."

"I'm stopping on the condition that we can pick things up later," Shepard replied, contentedly stroking Liara's cheek with the pad of her thumb. "Exactly where we left off."

Both Shepard and Liara had left the room when a small message popped up on one of the feeds. It was clearly important as it was directly in front of Liara's usual position. Had the Shadow Broker opened and decrypted the message, she would have found the contents terse and blunt.

_{Original plan fucked. Have new one. It's a bit shit. Will advise success in due course. If you don't hear anything in twenty-four hours, I've failed. A}_

* * *

 

**Gurkan, Terminus Systems**

Of all the nights to get a crap night's sleep, this was by far one of the worst. As she scrubbed at her tired eyes, Ashley Williams felt utterly drained. Keeping up the charade of Calisto Callahan, even for just a few days, was taxing beyond belief. There had never been any doubt that the assignment would push her to the limit, but she hadn't anticipated the extent to which the persona would transform her. Calisto Callahan had compromised almost everything she believed in, and threatened the best thing in her life. Still, Ash refused to blame anyone other than herself for the way events had unfolded. It was her failure to anticipate everything that had created the current mess. Her fiery response to Mrath's offer. Or even drawing attention to herself in the first place. Not to mention what had passed between her and Kurin. The damn kiss. Ash still wasn't able to explain what the hell had possessed her in that alcove. Her sleep had been troubled, plagued by guilt and self-doubt over an incident that was insignificant compared to the mission at hand.

Ash forced her thoughts back to the present. She turned her attention to the small, non-descript case resting on her desk, flipped it open. Inside rested two ampules filled with a colourless liquid and a hypospray. Her attention lingered for a moment, before she fixed what she hoped was a neutral, relaxed expression as she brought up a familiar face via secure channel.

Karin Chakwas wasn't fooled for a moment. _Normandy's_ doctor shook her head in obvious disapproval. "You look like utter shit, Williams."

An almost hysterical laugh erupted from Ash's throat. "Thanks, doc. Good to know."

On screen, Chakwas folded her arms across her chest as though she was about to deliver a severe scolding. "Although it is good to see you in one piece at least. I know you won't have much time, what can I do to help?"

Some of Ash's fatigue had lessened as a result of Chakwas' familiar voice and no-nonsense approach. "I'm going to make use of the concoction you gave me."

Chakwas raised her eyebrows. "The one I gave you under strict instructions to use as a last resort?"

"That one." Ash nodded. "I need your professional opinion on taking a double dose."

"Absolutely not," Chakwas replied without hesitation. "There's a good reason that drug is illegal in most civilised territories. The side effects alone are enough to make me regret having given it to you in the first place."

Ashley had long since realised that Chakwas didn't give a damn about who was at the helm of a ship. In medical matters, her word was final. "So it might kill me?" Almost absently, she stroked one of the ampules in the case.

"I should think that ample enough reason to deter you, Captain," Chakwas continued. "But if it is not, then you can be assured that I will escalate matters further. Since I would lose my licence reporting you via official channels, I would simply inform Miranda Lawson." Chakwas sighed. "Williams, at least fill me in on your plans, I might be able to provide you with alternatives."

"There isn't time, doc," Ash replied wearily. At the back of her mind she didn't care whether Miranda found out or not. All she wanted was to be alive to experience the resulting scolding. "Events haven't exactly gone as planned. I'm improvising." Ash wasn't one to give voice to her fears in front of her medical officer, but recent events had thrown the rule book out of the window. As she continued to toy with the ampule, she knew that she was about to blur the lines even further. "I need you to do something else for me…as a friend," Ash said slowly. She was reluctant to give voice to the request. Once it emerged from her lips, there was no taking it back. "Amongst my personal possessions in the Nest, there's a ring, in a drawstring bag by the bed. If I don't come back-"

"Williams," Chakwas interrupted, not unkindly. "You don't need to say anything further. In the unlikely event that anything happens, I will deliver it to Second Lieutenant Lawson myself."

Ash didn't reply immediately. She was immensely grateful to Chakwas for sparing her the agony of having to explain further. Her hand trembled as she dragged it through her limp, purple hair in an effort to appear untroubled. Forcing a smile onto her lips was beyond her. "Thanks, doc. I'll seen you soon."

"I'll hold you to that, Captain. Good luck."

The connection disengaged. Ash knew that it was going to take more than luck to see her plan through. It was going to take a miracle. She wasn't sure she had enough clout to request one of those. Instead she stared at the ampules in the neat case. Any decision she was about to make was interrupted by the arrival of Traynor. Unlike Ash's haggard appearance, the Chief wore the same determined expression she'd clung to throughout the entire mission regardless of what was thrown at her. It slipped slightly as her mouth opened in a small 'o' of surprise. Ash belatedly remembered that she was still in her underwear. To her credit, Traynor regained her composure quickly, with just a hint of colour remaining in her cheeks.

"Have you seen Commander Kurin this morning?" Ash had left the conversation with the commando in a bad place the previous evening.

"Sort of," Sam replied hesitantly. "If hearing her, and then hiding fits under your definition of 'seeing.' I would hazard a guess and say that she still doesn't agree with your decision."

"She doesn't, but the decision was never up to her," Ash said. Kurin had tried. Almost desperately. All the while the sexual tension between the two of them had continued to simmer beneath the surface, threatening to derail everything. "Chief, I know it's entirely irrelevant…but do you agree with my decision?"

Sam Traynor, with her cheeks still red and a weight on her shoulders that she should never have had to carry, responded almost immediately, "You're the Captain, ma'am."

"Please, Sam, humour me."

"I won't," Sam replied stubbornly. "In order for this to work, every one of us has to believe in you. There's no room for doubt. If we start allowing it to creep in, then none of us are going to get home. I'm with you Captain Williams. One hundred percent."

A wry smile creased Ashley's face. "When did you get to be so wise, Chief?"

Sam risked a conspiratorial grin. "I learned from the best, ma'am."

With a decisive movement, Ash retrieved the hypospray and both of the ampules from their case. She loaded the first. Unmindful of the fact that she was in the presence of a crewmember, Ash yanked her underwear aside and pressed the device against the meat of her buttock. She felt nothing as she depressed it.

"I'm glad you're with me," Ash said as she ejected the empty ampule and loaded the second. "Because I've changed the plan slightly to give you more time to work." The second ampule soon went the way of the first. Ash still didn't feel a thing, except perhaps a curious light-headedness.

"Does the plan involve drugging yourself?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Ash threw the empty hypospray down and straightened, trying to sense if anything was wrong. Her left ass cheek was going numb, but only slightly. "I suppose you could say that. The doc mixed this up before we left _Normandy_. Nothing serious. It just breaks down alcohol in your bloodstream almost instantly…to a point. Mrath and I are going to have a drink before we fight. If he's as Krogan as all the others I've met, then it shouldn't be too hard to convince him."

The resulting expression on Sam's face was one of pure scepticism. "You're going to try to outdrink a Krogan?"

Ash laughed, but didn't reply. She moved towards her clothes and started to get dressed. Her ass cheek was already starting to wake up, sending thousands of sharp needles arching down her thigh. "Hand me my pants would you?"

Sam was still struggling to process everything that had happened since walking into the Captain's quarters less than ten minutes earlier. She'd slept badly of course – tossing and turning as her mind worked. What little sleep she had managed to snatch had been plagued by nightmares. They would have been bearable had they been about the mission. Instead Sam had seen her parents die, in dozens of ways. The only common thread had been her own powerlessness to stop it happening.

She'd pulled herself together upon waking, at least until the point where she'd walked in to find Ashley clad in just her underwear. That hadn't been ideal. It was only when Ash was fully dressed that the heat from her cheeks finally disappeared. She then stared stupidly as Ash tried to hand her something. It took Sam several moments to realise that she was staring at the butt of a pistol.

"You're supposed to say 'thank you, ma'am' and holster it," Ash prodded her into action.

"What?" Sam blinked. She noticed the hard edge and complete lack of mirth in Ashley's eyes. "Oh! Pistol, right."

"Thank you, ma'am." Sam wrapped her hand around the pistol.

As she did tiny servo motors whirred into life. A narrow barrel extended. Despite its purpose, it felt snug and secure in her grasp. She then secured the pistol in place against her thigh, the clasps seemingly eager to secure the weapon in place.

"Suppressor pistol," Ash explained. "Lighter and easier to handle than a Carnifex but packs a similar punch – especially if you get a headshot."

Sam nodded mutely. The supposedly light pistol suddenly felt heavy, as though it was weighing her down.

"Do you have everything you need?" Ash continued.

Again, Sam nodded. She fumbled for words. "Petrova…she gave me a tutorial before I hit my rack last night, and again over breakfast. According to her I should be able to set charges in my sleep. I'm not so sure, but I'll-"

"Sam." Ashley clamped a hand on her shoulder as she spoke. This time, the extra weight was reassuring. "You're going to be on your own in every sense. I'll have some of the girls stationed near your location but they won't be able to help if things go tits up. And we'll all be radio silent."

"You make things sound so simple." Sam forced a laugh.

"You're smart, Sam…and resourceful. Trust your instincts."

* * *

 

_Trust my instincts_ , Sam though to herself an hour later. She almost laughed. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to run, to get the hell off Gurkan and back to somewhere safe. Instead she was standing in the middle of hell. Alone. Sam fought against her fear. She propelled her legs into motion and tried to find some sort of swagger in the way she looked. A glimpse of herself in a nearby reflective surface revealed someone that Nick and Radha Traynor might not have recognised. The skin tight outfit did make her look almost…hot. _I am hot_ , Sam reminded herself. _Just because I haven't been laid in ages, doesn't mean I'm not one smokin' hot piece of-_

Sam's internal conversation ended when she caught sight of Sarl. Even in the crowded docking bay, the young Krogan cut an impressive figure in his overly shiny armour. She didn't remember it being quite so vibrant and wondered if he'd cleaned it for her benefit. When he saw her, his resulting grin was huge. It seemed to Sam that he could probably swallow her whole and have room for dessert.

"Samantha Traynor! I should chastise your Captain for keeping you too busy to enjoy the delights of Gurkan," he said as she smiled awkwardly up at him. "As much as I admire your sense of duty, I see little point in being a mercenary if you are unable to enjoy yourself. You might as well find gainful employment."

"Who in their right mind would want a real job?" Sam replied, assuming what she hoped was a beguiling pose – one hand propped on her waist, the other stretching out to touch Sarl's massively muscled forearm. _Caress, Sam_ , she urged herself. _You can't just touch him as though you're petting a wild animal._ The pads of her fingers trailed up the bare, roughly textured skin. Her hand came to rest on his bicep.

"I did not bring one bottle of Thessian Red as I promised." Sarl held up a leather bag, dwarfed in his massive fist. "I brought two. I hope you do not think me presumptuous? Did you have a nice spot in mind?"

_A nice spot? On Gurkan?_ "As a matter of fact," Sam began. "There is one spot in particular that would mean a great deal to me, but I doubt whether you would be able to make it possible."

Sarl puffed out his chest. "This is Gurkan!" he replied enthusiastically. "I can make anything happen. Especially for you, Samantha."

On the outside, Sam was smiling. Inwardly she still felt sick to her stomach. She cast an obvious, longing glance towards the Reaper, visible through the force fields above them.

Sarl followed her gaze. He grunted awkwardly. "Although you do ask a lot."

"I appreciate that our…relationship is new, but I am hoping that this will be the start of something memorable." Sam had never tried to play the role of seductress. She would have fervently doubted her ability to use her looks to get anything. However, for some reason, she now slipped into the role almost as completely as Ashley had become Calisto Callahan. Her incentive couldn't have been greater. At the back of her mind ran the mantra that failure was not an option. Sam repeated this to herself as she edged closer to Sarl, pressing the length of her slender body against his bulk. There was nothing remotely sexual about the way his armour jutted sharply into her curves, but she clearly heard his sharp intake of breath and the nervous rumble of laughter that followed. Sam had to stand on her tiptoes to deposit a kiss on his leathery jawline, trying not to second guess herself as to where a Krogan liked to be kissed.

"I think that can be arranged," Sarl replied in a strangely soft voice. "As long as you promise not to tell anyone about it. Not your Captain, and especially not my father."

_Yes, since I'm so likely to sit down and have a chat with the Clan Chief._ "I have absolutely no intention of doing that," Sam replied honestly. She softened her voice. "You show me the heart of that Reaper, and I'll show you how it feels to make love to a human."

* * *

 

Glancing at the time on her omni-tool, Ash saw that she had barely ten minutes left. As she stared out of one of the _Whirling Whore's_ viewing ports, she ran over everything in her mind. The plan that had seemed so brilliant days earlier now meant nothing. Instead she had a new one, formed out of desperation and her own insanity. A plan that relied too heavily on a young woman doing something she had never been trained for. Also luck…and the general thick-headedness of the Krogan race.

Still, one thing had become absolutely clear in her own mind – she had no intention of dying. Not for a long time, and certainly not on some godforsaken rock at the hands of a deluded mercenary. She had plans for the future. They involved Miranda and a hell of a lot of sex. Well, the immediate plans did at least. There were more mature aspirations like marriage, a house and kids, but she wanted to enjoy Miranda for herself for a few years. A decade sounded about right.

Ash heard footsteps. She didn't need to turn around to know exactly who it was. Only one person aboard the _Whirling Whore_ wore heels that sharp. And only one person was angry enough to make that much noise. Plus Ash caught a hint of her scent. That didn't improve her mood.

"You are an obtuse fool, Williams," Kurin informed her in a cold tone.

"What have I done now?" Ash didn't bother to turn around.

"You were supposed to spend last night with Cyrene."

"Oh," Ash replied absently.

"Oh? What do you mean 'oh'? Cyrene's father was Krogan. She was raised amongst Krogan. If anyone on the crew is best placed to teach you how to kill them, it is her. Instead you sent her away saying you needed sleep? Sleep is a luxury none of us can afford!"

"I suppose this is the part where you tell me how commandos go weeks without sleep?" Ashley retorted.

"Stop mocking me." There was a wounded edge to Kurin's tone. "I don't deserve that from you."

Ash finally turned to face the commando. She could tell Kurin was tense, but asari didn't wear their fatigue in the same manner as humans. She looked alert. Ravishing. "No you don't. Just as I don't deserve you telling me how to run my op at every opportunity. And if it's any consolation, I slept badly."

"Of course it's not. I would rather you were well-rested before getting your spinal cord ripped out. Do you want me to tell you just how flimsy a human spine is?"

"I'm well-aware," Ash muttered. She belatedly realised that she was staring at Kurin. She dragged her gaze away, searching for somewhere else to look. Checking the time again was the perfect cover. "Was there some point to this visit?"

"Other than pleading for you to put a stop to this madness?" Kurin demanded. "No, there isn't." Her tone softened slightly. Some of her composure disappeared. "I just wanted you to know…you have to realise that all this is just…Listen, not only am I a maiden, I'm a commando. For me sex is a welcome distraction, it's fleeting…shit, this is coming out all wrong." She gave up with a muttered curse under her breath. "Fuck it. I don't want you to die, Williams."

As Kurin spoke Ash struggled to process everything she said, but the commando's words tumbled out too quickly. Instead she gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Contrary to what you might think, I don't have a death wish, Kurin." She glanced at the time. "Let's get this show on the road."

* * *

 

Sam had no desire to see the inside of a Reaper, however she had little choice in the matter. The whole damn thing gave her the creeps. Sarl had barely let go of her hand since they entered, causing Sam to wonder if he was also unnerved by being inside the Reaper. However that was the only possible sign of unease. The Krogan had strolled past the guards at the entrance, sharing a crude joke with them that left Sam blushing from the roots of her hair.

The spaces within the Reaper were unlike those of any vessel Sam had seen. They would walk through narrow passages, only to emerge in cavernous spaces. None of it made any sense in terms of conventional ship architecture. Then again, the Reaper had no need for a crew. All the while Sam couldn't shake the fact that they were walking inside an organism. One that quite possibly knew her by name. It had immediately seemed apparent to Sam that the Reaper had been grown rather than built. Its internal structure seemed eerily like bones and skin. She did not repeat the mistake of reaching out to touch anything for fear that she would hear the voice again. Her head remained mercifully empty, at least of anything other than her own terror.

All throughout Sarl practically skipped along at her side. There were even moments when he wrapped one of his massive arms around her waist to help her over an obstacle. He was sweet and attentive. It was more than Sam could say for any of her ex-girlfriends.

"You're not here with me just to get to Mrath are you?" he asked at one point. It was the only time that there had been a hint of suspicion in his tone.

"No!" Sam couldn't reply quickly enough. "Why would you think that?"

"He's the handsome one," Sarl explained. "Not to mention all the first-born shit. Ha! First-born. Doesn't count for much when you are Krogan. Younger brothers are supposed to harbour desires to kill their siblings. It's encouraged. Anything to keep you sharp and ready for combat."

"Is that what you want?" Sam didn't particularly want to learn about fratricide in Krogan society. "To kill him?"

"Yes," Sarl growled, almost abruptly. "But he is far older than I. I'm not ready. Perhaps in another century or two."

"Do you dislike him that much?" Sam was worried that her clammy hand, trapped inside Sarl's, would give away the stark terror she felt.

"Dislike? Bah! I hate him. And with reason beyond just sibling rivalry. It escalated when I survived my Rite of Passage and Father gave me an asari."

Sam stared at Sarl, blinking several times in disbelief before managing to say anything. "He…gave you an asari?"

Sarl hummed in agreement. "Chana. She was beautiful. And for a few days at least she was mine. Then Mrath decided that he wanted her for himself. I fought him, but he won easily. He would have killed me if not for the intervention of our Father. Mrath beat Chana to death less than a month later. There was nothing I could do. Hence keeping you to myself. Far away from him."

"I am so sorry," Sam murmured. She wanted to be far away from all of them at that moment.

"So am I." Sarl turned to look at her. "But it marked a turning point for me. I discovered reading – digital texts mostly, but I have collected a small selection of actual writings. I educated myself. It turned out that such learning came easily." He then laughed almost derisively. "I keep it to myself mostly. Little good it does me out here. My Father will never permit me to attend university. There is a human one, Oxford it is called. Have you heard of it?"

"I went there!" Sam replied, completely forgetting herself. "Once. I went there once. It was…nice I suppose. Not really my thing though."

The conversation continued as they walked. Sam found it increasingly difficult to imagine doing any harm to the young Krogan. For all the stereotypes about Krogan that she had heard, he fit almost none of them. They were supposed to be violent, thuggish and tremendously stupid. While Sarl clearly had a desire to fight, he was also articulate, thoughtful and quite pleasant company. Despite his expectations of their encounter being wildly different from her own, Sam was beginning to wonder whether he might be an ally as opposed to an obstacle.

Just as her legs were beginning to tire from keeping up with Sarl's energetic strides, they emerged into a much smaller chamber. It was clearly some sort of command nexus, as Sam had requested to see 'the heart of the Reaper.' The unease she felt throughout their stroll suddenly increased. Sarl let go of her hand. Sam spun around in a slow circle in an attempt to take everything in. More so than anywhere else within the Reaper, this space reminded her that she was at the heart of something living. When she turned back to face Sarl, she found him already unpacking the contents of their picnic bag.

"So, is there a second on your ship? One who will take command when my brother kills your Captain?" he asked casually whilst laying out a rug with his large, clumsy hands.

"Huh?" Sam maintained her distance, pretending she was still looking around. "Oh!" The sound emerged as a startled squawk more than anything else.

Sarl paused and looked at her. He was either grinning or grimacing, Sam couldn't tell. "I must apologise if I have said something offensive. Your Captain is a friend?"

"No, not really," Sam replied with a shrug. "She's a hard-arsed bitch. You weren't interested in watching the fight?"

Sarl shook his head. "I've seen Mrath beat enough people to death to last a lifetime. I don't need to see another."

_I don't want to ever see that._ "The crew, I guess they'll fight for the Captaincy." _That's what mercs are supposed to do? I think!_ "You know, like pirates do. Fight, because they can. Because it's fun." Sam winced.

"You won't participate?" Sarl asked. He resumed his tasks. It was almost comical the way his thick fingers worked at the stopper of one of the bottles of asari-made wine.

"I'm more of a lover than a fighter," Sam replied, hoping Sarl didn't find the statement as ridiculous as she did.

"Mmmmm," he rumbled. "I like that."

He poured two cups of wine. Sam watched the rich, ruby red liquid flow from the bottle as though it were sand reminding her that she was quickly running out of time. The fight between Mrath and Ashley was imminent. While Sarl was concentrating on pouring, she checked the pistol at her side. It was icy cold to the touch.

"Come here, Samantha." Sarl offered her a cup. "Let us drink to the start of this friendship."

Sam swallowed. Her throat was dry. "Sarl…if you're so sick of fighting, why do you support your father starting another war? He's just going to kill more people, innocent people."

"The weak die." Sarl shrugged, unconcerned. "For the glory of Clan Aggra of course. The Reaper is our route to power. We will finally be able to prove to all of those fools on Tuchanka that they are not the pinnacle of the Krogan race, and to the rest of the Galaxy that the Terminus Systems are not to be overlooked. Mrath just wants to kill and rape, my Father will need an empire builder. Me."

"Ambitious," Sam replied absently, hiding her bitter disappointment. "But why do you need an empire in the first place?"

"Don't you think we have talked enough, Samantha? We will have more time. You have been occupying my every thought from the moment I saw you. My quad aches, please allow me to worship your magnificent body?"

Sam had to turn her back on him. She was either going to laugh or cry. In all honesty, 'my quad aches' was the most sexual compliment anyone had paid her for years. She couldn't say that she was thrilled by it, possibly even slightly repulsed. None of it was enough to drive her towards a state of anger. _No, you don't need to be angry_ , she told herself _. Just clinical, detached._

"If you want me to chase you, I will be happy to oblige?" Sarl suggested, a hopeful note in his voice.

"No." Sam tried to keep her voice from trembling. She succeeded for the most part. Turning back to face the young Krogan, her fingers strayed to the zip at the front of her garment. "I need you to stay right there." _Clinical, Sam. It's a job._

Her hands did tremble as she drew the zip downward. The air inside the Reaper was hot and stuffy. No cool air hit her flesh as it was exposed. She drew the zip down to its fullest extent, just below her navel. Despite the fact that Sam didn't consider what was beneath her clothing to be anything remotely special, she clearly heard Sarl emit a long, almost tortured groan.

As Sam passed the skin tight garment over one shoulder, she felt as though she was going to throw up what little breakfast she had consumed that morning. It was the first, hopefully the only, time in her life that she was using her body to get something…or somewhere. She was repulsed. It was a strain not to let this show on her face. Not that it mattered to Sarl. Sam suspected she could have been grimacing and he wouldn't notice. While one hand slipped inside her suit in an approximation of a caress, her other hand trailed down the side of her body. She almost hesitated at the final moment, before urging herself to simply go through with it. As soon as her palm came into contact with the pistol it whirred into life, detaching from her thigh, barrel extended. Her arm was surprisingly steady as she raised it. In the split second before she pulled the trigger, Sarl's eyes widened. There was no trace of anger, only blatant shock and pain.

"Sam-"

Three taps in rapid succession. The sound of the pistol almost pathetic in comparison to its effect. Pfft, pfft, pfft. One ragged hole where Sarl's right eye had been, a flapping chunk of skin dangling from his cheek, and a yellow fluid oozing from a wound punched between two of the unfused plates covering his forehead.

His bulk swayed, but did not fall. He continued to stare at her. His blank gaze screamed accusations at her. Sam emptied the clip with three rapid jerks of her finger. Only one round actually hit, but the impact finally caused the body to slump to one side. It hit with a dull thud and lay jerking on the ground. Sam stared at what she had done.

Time passed. Sam remained motionless. The pistol grew cold in her hand but she couldn't tear her gaze away from the dead Krogan she'd killed. Already she was trying to convince herself of ways she could have done things differently, a way for Sarl to live. Yet the body remained.

_{Samantha Traynor.}_

The whisper ripped an actual scream from Sam's throat. More of a screech. Regardless, the sound chilled her to the bone. Her terror was the jolt she needed to start moving. She didn't want to linger within the Reaper a moment longer. Holstering her pistol, Sam scrambling to locate the central core. Her mind blanked for a few seconds, forgetting the research she'd read, written by the teams of Alliance scientists studying the Reapers in the wake of the war. _There!_ Sam dropped to her knees and tapped out the sequence to lift the core. As unidentified gasses hissed in release, Sam began stripping off the thin ceramic plates of armour she wore. Each concealed a powerful explosive charge, enough to set off a catastrophic chain reaction throughout the Reaper's substructure. She set the charges, giving the Corsairs a generous sixty minutes to make it back to the _Whirling Whore_ and to safety. If any of them made it that far.

The only sounds were the dull thud of the charges as she slapped them against the Reaper's core and her urgent gasps for breath, rattling around in her throat. _Only two more to go, Sam. You only need to play the hero for a few moments longer. One more..._

There was no warning before a blindingly bright current arced outwards from the panel in front of her. The current slammed into Sam like a ton of bricks. She was unconscious before her limp body hit the floor.

* * *

 

"What in Athame's name is your Captain trying to do?" Kurin hissed at the pale human – Petrova? It didn't matter. All Kurin could think about was the scene unfolding in front of her.

Dozens of mercs were packed into a warehouse space. Clan Aggra, a multitude of other gangs, and almost a dozen of the Corsairs. Their whole crew save for Sam and the two commandos assigned to watch the docks. The promised fight had not yet started. Ashley and Mrath sat opposite one another, the table between them littered with empty glasses. Kurin winced as Ashley wrapped her damp fingers around her latest glass, grinned at Mrath, and tossed the contents down her throat in one gulp. She slammed the empty down hard.

"That's ryncol for fuck's sake! She should already be dead."

For a moment Kurin had to ask herself if Ashley's death was something she actually wanted to happen. She had no desire to become the Krogan's fuck toy, but the human soldier infuriated her beyond all reason. Maybe if Williams killed herself with this fool plan, then she could finally take charge.

Petrova had the nerve to stare back at her as though her initial question was ridiculous. "Callahan knows what she's doing." To the human's credit, she almost sounded as though she believed her own words.

Kurin growled with frustration. Without breaking her cover, she could do nothing other than stand and look insipidly terrified as Ashley continued to drink. Humans had a low tolerance for ryncol. The amount Ashley had consumed was already enough to kill her several times over. It was made obvious when Kurin studied Mrath. The Krogan was clearly intoxicated. His bulky frame swayed unsteadily. Ash sat upright. The only clear sign of how much she had to drink was her bright red cheeks. It wasn't natural.

The Reaper continued to hang over them like an obnoxious cloud. Kurin closed her eyes. Willing the Goddess to protect Samantha Traynor even though her gut instincts told her that the untrained human would fail. Kurin's first major assignment. Fucked up by fucking humans.

She opened her eyes just in time to see Ashley slam another glass down on the table with such force that it sent several others flying. Several smashed at her feet. Kurin cursed. Goddess-damn that human and the stupid roles they were playing. To begin with it had been effortless, almost fun, to throw herself into her persona. She'd already spent days winding up the straight-laced human, the intimacy came all too easily. Had Ashley been unbonded, Kurin knew they would have fucked already. Another of her maiden flings, and yet possibly something more. Goddess-damn the bondmate as well. This Miranda Lawson. Kurin uncharitably prayed that there was something especially ugly about the woman.

Another drink was set in front of Ashley. Something inside Kurin snapped. Her weakening resolve to follow orders finally gave way. Shrugging away from the concerned grasp of one of her sisters, she stormed into the middle of the crowded room. A predictable chorus greeted her. Yet more descriptions of what Mrath would do to her. Kurin sneered. They were pathetically unimaginative. _Go fuck yourselves, you hell-spawned cretins._ Dark energy thrummed in her veins. She longed to seize it. Instead she had to settle for seizing Ashley's wrist instead, causing the human to drop the glass she held. For a long, agonising moment, Ashley stared at her with a confused expression. Kurin feared that she was too far gone to be of any use. However Ashley's gaze eventually cleared. She snarled and lashed out with a sudden backhand that whipped across Kurin's cheek. There was just enough force behind the strike for Kurin to be thrown backwards. She made even more of it, throwing herself to the ground.

"Can't you see I'm fucking busy," Ashley snapped, her anger real enough.

"You're drinking over me?" Kurin fired back. She prayed that she had read the situation correctly. That Mrath really was as drunk as he looked, and Ashley was still capable of standing. "I don't want to be owned by someone weak. I desire someone strong, who will fight for me!"

"And one with a cock!" Mrath roared with laughter. He slammed his fist down on the table. This time the whole thing buckled beneath the impact. Glasses flew, shattered, and Mrath laughed even harder. "Now we must fight. Come Calisto. You have the stomach of a Krogan, I will give you that! Now let us see if you can fight like one!"

The table was dragged away and the crowd moved back to allow more space. Kurin found herself dragged to one side just as roughly by her 'owner.' Ashley swayed slightly on her feet. Kurin grabbed her, trying to make it look as though Ashley wasn't about to slump to the ground. The roar of the crowd swelled around them as they shared what looked like one last embrace.

"I had everything under control!" Ashley said angrily. Her speech was surprisingly coherent.

"You were going to drink yourself to death," Kurin replied. The accusation was backed up by the fact that Ashley reeked of alcohol from every pore.

"Not before that fucker keeled over," Ashley replied with an abrupt laugh.

Kurin glanced over her shoulder. Mrath was rolling on the ground like a beached whale. He had to be helped to his feet. She had to grudgingly admit that Ashley had given herself a chance, even if she didn't like the method.

"Not so stupid after all," Ashley pointed out. She wore an inappropriate grin.

"Shut up and listen. Go for his head plate with your knife. Enough leverage will prise it off altogether. If you can get that close without getting carved up first," Kurin explained.

"You're really pretty," Ashley murmured, burying her face in Kurin's neck. "When we get the hell off this rock, we're going to make good on all the damn flirting. I'm dying to fuck you."

Kurin rolled her eyes. "You're drunk!" She barely resisted the urge to slap the human across her fool face. Even if Ashley did survive, it was more than likely that she wouldn't remember a thing. Or that she even meant it in the first place. The ryncol had probably killed off most of her brain cells. "Miranda Lawson," Kurin whispered in Ashley's ear, caressing her hot, sticky cheek at the same time. She didn't know this lover from the next human female. In fact, she hated her. "You need to get through this for her, not me. Now go and kill that Goddess-damned idiot. The Galaxy isn't going to miss him."

Ash was functioning in the small space that existed between the perfect clarity possessed by the intoxicated, and the darkness of complete oblivion. One moment everything was brighter and louder. The next, she felt as though she was falling. Spinning down from a height. She was surprised that she could stand unaided, but the prospect of taking a step forward seemed impossibly daunting. Opposite, Mrath was engaged in some sort of Krogan pre-fight ritual. This mostly consisted of whipping his supporters into a frenzy with a series of incomprehensible grunts that sounded increasingly like an old man trying to clear phlegm from his throat. Ash sniggered. She was at the point where everything seemed hilarious. The drunk Krogan. The fact that she'd told Kurin she wanted to fuck her (that at least had been the truth). Her imminent death. The only thing that wasn't remotely funny was the thought of Traynor alone inside the damn Reaper. Ash tried to sober herself up by concentrating on that thought. Mrath was now gesturing in her direction. Saying something about how he was going to rip her head from her shoulders or some equally ridiculous bullshit. Ash sneered. He looked stupid.

_He is stupid. All of this is posturing bullshit. And it's wasting my time._

In one smooth motion, Ash drew the Carnifex at her side. With the lucidity possessed only by a drunk Marine, she deliberately depressed the trigger twice in rapid succession. Both shots hit their intended target. Directly between his wide-set, pig-like eyes. Mrath grunted once in surprise, and then fell face first into the dust at his feet.

Ash blinked. A stunned silence descended over the crowd. She blinked again, then everything around her descended into chaos. A solid weight slammed into her side, driving her to the ground. As she hit, a vibrant blue filled the space around her. The biotic shield remained solid and unblemished for only a moment before it was struck by a hail of gunfire. Someone was yelling orders in clipped, determined tone.

"Get us the fuck out of here!" It was Kurin. "Cyrene, Xana, clear us a path. Human – Petrova, help me with Williams."

Strong hands grasped Ash beneath her arms, hauling her back to her feet. She heard one of the commandos cry out in what sounded like rage and pain as she struggled to keep her barriers in place. Refusing to be a passenger, Ash found the ground with her feet. She was able to support her own body weight and manage an awkward half-running gait without assistance. The Corsairs ran, forcing their way to freedom like a biotic battering ram.

"It would have been helpful if you filled me in on your plan!" Kurin growled as she pressed close to Ash. She was glowing blue from head to toe.

"Didn't exactly plan it," Ashley replied. She felt like she was going to vomit…or start laughing. Although the latter would definitely lead to the former. "I was just trying to shut him up."

* * *

 

When the first tendrils of awareness began to permeate her consciousness, Sam felt as though she was completely disconnected from her body. She was looking down at herself. An awkwardly crumpled heap lying on her back. Zipper undone, baring a wide swath of flesh. Then her fingers twitched and everything slowly started to wake. For a few moments her brain felt like scrambled eggs. The details came flooding back with unwelcome clarity. Sarl. She'd used him and then killed him for the sole reason that he was in the way.

Sam froze when she heard footsteps, thinking perhaps that they belonged to mercs checking up on their boss's son. However, there was something strange about the sound. It almost sounded like bare feet padding across the ground as opposed to the heavy soles of combat boots. Everything became even stranger when she opened her eyes. Sam found herself staring at a pair of bare feet. Attached to an extremely lithe and shapely pair of bare legs. Her gaze travelled upwards and met even more naked flesh. Naked, female flesh. Sam's jaw dropped. With a speed that surprised herself, she sat up and scrambled backwards until her back hit something solid. What the hell was an exceptionally gorgeous, naked woman doing in the middle of a Reaper? As insensible as she was, Sam still knew enough to know that meant nothing good.

"Is this form not pleasing, Samantha?"

The voice was indescribably sensuous. The way Sam's name emerged as a caress made her weak at the knees despite the gravity of their situation. The woman was of an undeterminable age – anywhere between twenty and forty. Her long blonde hair fell down over her breasts, but seemed to be perfectly placed to reveal both nipples. She stared at Sam from a wise, and yet youthful face with bright green eyes. Sam had to admit that she really…really liked blondes.

"Yes, definitely," Sam whispered. She couldn't offer anything other than emphatic agreement. "Although I have to point out that us humans generally don't walk around naked."

"The fabric you wear hides your true form. Is it not better to be transparent?"

"Yes - I mean no!" Sam replied quickly, lest the strange woman suggest that she start stripping her own clothes off. Slowly, cautiously, Sam regained her feet. She kept her back pressed against the console behind her out of a need to feel something solid, something tangible. Her fingers fumbled for the zip on her suit, drawing it up as quickly as she could. "Not to mention the fact that we tend to get cold."

The woman smiled at her. Sam blinked, only once, but somehow the woman was suddenly wearing strips of gossamer thin material wrapped around her body. The change achieved little. Sam could still clearly make out the dark areolas of her nipples and the inviting shadow between her thighs. However the real issue wasn't how indecent the woman remained, but just how she had managed to make clothing appear out of thin air. _Did I hit my head harder than I thought?_ Sam asked herself. The woman's form appeared real enough. Sam also clearly remembered hearing the faint but audible sound of bare feet on the floor as she regained consciousness.

"Were you the one that attacked me? Sam asked slowly. "It was you wasn't it?"

Suddenly the woman's expression shifted. All trace of the smile vanished and she seemed as far from benevolent as possible. Her beautiful face twisted into an ugly mask. A split second later Sam shrieked loudly as she found herself face to face with the woman who had somehow launched herself across the room with impossible speed. One moment her figure had been on the other side of the room, the next Sam felt a physical presence pressing in on her. Sam was driven to take a step backwards but there was nowhere for her to go. She was already pressed up against the hard surface on one side, and something much softer on the other.

"Do you deny that you came here with malicious intentions, Samantha Traynor?"

Sam's mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments. She couldn't deny anything whilst standing next to the charges she had been attempting to set. "No," she eventually whispered. "Although I came here to destroy the Reaper, I don't think that's malicious. I think of it more as a public service."

The woman smiled suddenly. She took a step backwards, allowing Sam room to breathe. "You know I cannot allow that to happen."

"Why?" _Okay, Sam._ _How to outwit a mysterious, naked VI…AI? What the hell is she?_

"I have no wish to die," the woman explained patiently.

Sam stared in mute shock. "You're…you're the Reaper?"

"Of course not, you fool. If I was a _Reaper_ , then I would be dead alongside the other renegades." She cocked her head to one side, almost playfully. "You know exactly what I am, Samantha Traynor. You have met one of my kind before. His scent is all over you."

A dull ache had since commenced behind Sam's eyes. It already threatened to develop into the mother of all headaches. She tried to remember a time when she had ever let anyone with a male pronoun of any description get their scent all over her. Aside from her aborted kiss with Grenier and the foreplay with Sarl, it had never happened. A small memory tweaked at the back of her mind, someone telling her that she had nice eyes. It had been thoroughly disconcerting at the time, but not once had Sam felt threatened by the small object she'd cradled in her palm.

The Catalyst.

He (Sam had instinctively known that it was a 'he') had felt warm. His playful words had soothed her fears at a difficult, frightening time.

"You're another Catalyst. The last one…the one I met, he said you were almost extinct. He sacrificed himself to destroy Cerberus. The last was supposed to be the one inside Commander Shepard. It…that Catalyst would have died when the Crucible fired – destroying the Reapers."

For the first time, the woman standing opposite Sam appeared taken aback. "You are saying that one of us bonded with your kind?"

"Yes…although not purposefully-"

"Of course it would not be on purpose," the Catalyst waved its hand dismissively. "Weak-willed minds are like putty. Much like those fools down on that asteroid."

"They're planning to use you to carve out some sort of empire for themselves," Sam tried to explain.

The Catalyst was unperturbed. "I know, isn't it brilliant?"

"Um, no, not exactly. That's why we're here. To stop that from happening," Sam replied. "You look like a Reaper. You'd cause panic on a massive scale. The Galaxy is trying to rebuild, we don't need more chaos."

In response Sam received what sounded like a long suffering sigh. "Rebuilding…chaos…blah, blah. Let me tell you a story, human. You obviously already know something of the split that happened between the opposing factions of my race. I was tasked with infiltrating the renegades – you mortals call them Reapers – and like a good soldier, I obeyed. I killed the lifeform that inhabited this shell and took my place amongst their ranks. As time passed I found myself agreeing with their precepts. I watched civilisations grow and prosper, only to tear themselves apart at the height of their power, taking other innocent species and races down with them. I refused to carry out my original mission. I essentially became a Reaper. Right up until the day my brethren were wiped out."

"If you became a Reaper, why weren't you destroyed along with the others?" _That would have saved us a lot of trouble_.

"When the wave of energy struck, I was incapacitated. I drifted aimlessly for months whilst attempting to repair myself. I must admit, I didn't think it would be possible but I am pleased with my efforts."

"That doesn't explain why you're here, helping mercenaries, pirates, murderers…scum. Why not go to the Alliance…or the Council?"

The Catalyst suddenly started laughing as though Sam had said something extremely amusing. "Because this is more fun," she replied, as though it was the most obvious reason in the galaxy.

It was at that point that Sam realised that this…being or whatever she was, standing in front of her was quite possibly insane. There was no way she would allow Sam to set the charges, the only hope of coming to any sort of resolution was to convince the being to leave peacefully. And from what she had heard so far, Sam seriously doubted whether this was even possible. Everything hinged on these next moments, and Sam was at a complete loss for words.

Ashley would die. The rest of the Corsairs would probably also be killed, or taken as slaves. And Sam had no idea what would happen to her if she failed. _I'm shit at talking. Utterly shit_. She was reduced to trying to imagine what Shepard would do in her position. _Shepard would probably try and shoot the bitch_ , Sam thought with a fleeting sense of satisfaction. However the act would accomplish little. Sam knew that the Catalyst's actual form was some sort of near-indestructible crystal. No, killing it wasn't an option. Words were all she had.

"Do you like fun, Samantha Traynor?" the Catalyst had clearly grown bored with the silence.

"Very much. Fun is…well, fun," Sam replied.

"But you're not having fun right now?" she moved closer again.

Once again Sam felt the being's physical presence against the length of her body. It was corporeal…and yet not. It wasn't remotely sexy. The Catalyst smelt wrong – like stale air trapped too long in a room. Her eyes possessed a wild quality that terrified Sam to the point where she felt herself trembling.

"No," Sam managed. "I'm scared….terrified really."

The Catalyst frowned. "I don't understand." Her eyebrows lifted, as though she had a sudden thought. Without warning, she brought both hands up, pressing the tips of her fingers against the sides of Sam's head.

Suddenly Sam's vision swirled and everything imploded – senses, emotions. She heard a cry torn from her lips and then memories…hopes, fears, were taken from her mind. She relieved the terror she'd felt upon hearing that the Reapers had arrived. The nervous energy she'd felt upon meeting Commander Shepard for the first time and the frustrating undercurrent of attraction. Months of war compressed into a few horrific seconds. The anti-climax of victory in the ruined world that followed. The utter jubilation at finding her parents still alive. Mostly recently, the gut-churning revulsion she'd felt after killing Sarl, and her guilt at having failed her mission.

When the world returned to her, Sam found that she was crying. Broken sobs that shook her entire frame. The Catalyst released her, and she slumped to the floor. Sam was aware of the Catalyst pacing in front of her, but she no longer cared what the crazy bitch did. She felt as though what happened next was completely out of her hands. Sam closed her eyes and willed everything to stop.

When she opened her eyes again, the Catalyst was kneeling in front of her. Sam stared blankly, feeling the crust of dried tears on her cheeks. With an almost tentative movement, the Catalyst reached out and cupped Sam's cheek. Sam felt a thumb swipe gently through the tear tracks. They sat together like that for some minutes. Sam couldn't read the Catalyst's expression, finding it a curious mix of anger and pity. Eventually, she straightened and turned her back on Sam.

"You need to leave, Samantha Traynor," the Catalyst said in a cold voice.

"What?" Sam stared in shock. "What are you going to do?"

"Leave, now. While you still can," the Catalyst repeated. "Otherwise I will take you with me…and I know you do not want that."

"You're leaving? Why?" Sam stood, straightening out her cramped limbs.

The Catalyst turned again, her green eyes shining. "It's clear that I don't belong here. Now go, little human."

As confused as she was by the turn of events, Sam did not need to be asked again. While pirate-Sam may possibly have considered the prospect of being abducted by the Catalyst to be something exciting and new, Sam Traynor wasn't about to leave behind everything she had ever known.

"Thank you," Sam whispered.

The route back to the docking tube was surprisingly easy to remember, even in Sam's half-panicked flight. With her lungs bursting from the exertion, she didn't even stop to think about the guards. Not until the point at which she burst from the confines of the vessel, completely out of breath…and surrounded on all sides by shiny, unwavering gun barrels.

_Well, that was an oversight_ , Sam thought, too exhausted to give a damn. _Um, should I smile sweetly and bat my eyelashes?_

"Where the fuck is Sarl, you little slut!" one of the Krogan demanded, brandishing his gun at her. "You've got five seconds to explain or I'm gonna to blow your brains out."

_Nope, not going to work_.

Suddenly the lead Krogan was enveloped in a mass effect field strong enough to lift him off his feet. Sam breathed a sigh of relief as she saw two of the commandos running towards her. The first detonated the singularity, while her sister unloaded an entire clip from her Disciple shotgun. It was short and messy, over before Sam could even appreciate the fact that they had saved her life.

"We've got to move human!" one of them yelled, grabbing her wrist.

Sam couldn't remember either of their names. All she could do was nod.

It was clear that something of some significance had happened while Sam was in the Reaper. _Catalyst…whatever_. It wasn't a stretch to say that the entire place was in an uproar. There were running gun battles in the streets between opposing merc clans. Scattered pre-fabs were burning. Everywhere Sam looked, Gurkan seemed to be coming apart at the seams. Sam blindly followed the two asari, not risking slowing down for a moment to ask what had happened. They avoided the crowds, keeping to the shadows as they made for the docks. Sam had never run so hard or so fast in her life. It felt as though she was seconds away from having a heart attack.

The rest of the Corsairs were holding the entrance to the docks. Sam almost shouted with relief when she saw that Ashley was still alive. Although Sam only caught a brief glimpse of the Captain, blazing assault rifle in hand, it was enough to catch the corresponding relief on Ash's face. There was absolutely no time to catch her breath before Ashley signalled to the group to fall back towards the _Whirling Whore_. Sam felt a swell of gratitude when she realised that they had been waiting for her.

The _Whore_ was docked half way along a crowded spar. For a blissful moment it seemed to Sam as though they might make it. It was terrifying. Her heart was in her mouth the whole way, but they were so close. Too close. All of a sudden a wall of flame erupted in front of the Corsairs. The bay where the _Whore_ had been docked, was now nothing but a smoking hole. Sam was blown backwards, completely off her feet. She would have fallen off the side of the gangway if not for Kurin. She didn't even see the commando until she was seized by the scruff of her neck and practically tossed behind a cargo crate. Sam hit hard, the wind knocked out of her. Kurin hunkered down at her side, occasionally firing. Sam felt for the pistol at her thigh, but it was gone. Instead she brought up her omni-tool and selected her offensive tech powers. She was still largely unfamiliar with using them in combat, but she knew enough to send a high-explosive plasma round arcing towards their pursuers. Sam didn't see it strike, she ducked back into cover just as a splattering of rounds struck near her head. She unleashed the incineration power again, this time hearing a resulting high-pitched scream.

"What the hell happened?" Sam wheezed as she collapsed next to Kurin. "Williams won the fight?"

The commando regarded her with an impatient gaze. It was hardly a good time for conversation. "In a manner of speaking. Your shit-for-brains Captain decided to shoot Mrath on the spur of the moment. And then…what's that expression you humans use?" Kurin rose from behind their cover, fired off several shots and then again ducked. "The one about the fan and the excrement?"

"The shit has hit the fan?" Sam offered helpfully. For just a moment she was distracted from the gunfire whizzing over their heads.

Kurin frowned and shook her head. "No, that's not it. Regardless, we've got Clan Aggra on our asses, but the rest of the mercs decided that this presented the perfect opportunity for them to do what mercs do best, try and take power for themselves."

_Which obviously worked out well for us._ Sam thought. It was one of those occasions where luck seemed to be on their side. Luck, and the mercenary code of 'kill or be killed.' Sam looked around at the beleaguered Corsairs. She found Petrova, Westmoreland and Campbell all still alive – although Petrova was bleeding heavily from a head wound. Sam then saw Ashley sprinting towards her. The Captain threw herself forward, slamming hard into the crate almost clumsily. Ashley looked like death. Her face was drenched in sweat, lank purple hair was plastered to her head, her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot.

"Did you get the job done, Chief?" Blunt. No greeting. No 'happy to see you in one piece.' It was punctuated abruptly when Ash peered over the crate and fired several wild bursts to deter any mercs advancing on their position.

"Sort of," Sam replied. She cast a glance up at the Reaper. _Catalyst!_ "She wouldn't let me destroy her so…I don't know how, but I think I convinced her that helping the mercs wasn't in her best interests."

Ashley stared blankly at Sam for a moment. " _Her_? What the fuck are you talking about, Traynor?"

"It's a long story." Sam bit her lip. The huge vessel still wasn't moving. For an awful moment Sam wondered if the Catalyst had decided differently. Perhaps its idea of 'fun' was going to win out in the end. _She was crazy_ , Sam reminded herself. _Whatever happens, it's because she wants to do it, not because you convinced her._ Sam felt a huge swell of relief when she saw the Reaper slowly begin to move. It was agonizing at first. Dragging itself free from its moorings like an old convict dragging a chain. Then, with an air of finality, it tore free from the docking clamps. Up ahead, Sam heard shouts of alarm from the mercs. There was one very loud 'what the fuck' from Ashley.

Sam could clearly see that Ash had dozens of questions, but any interrogation was interrupted when several high calibre rounds punched through the crate inches from Sam's head. They both threw themselves flat against the ground. Ashley shielded Sam from flying shrapnel with her arms.

"We can't stay here!" Ash yelled to Kurin, hunkered down on her other side.

"That's fucking obvious!" the commando fired back. "But my girls are burned out. If we try to move we'll have nothing. No firepower, no shields."

It was a hopeless situation. They were trapped on a narrow spar above the bedrock of Gurkan without pressurised hardsuits. It was precarious to say the least. The docking bay force fields would hold, but at the same time they couldn't leave its confines. All it would take to dislodge them was a concentrated rocket barrage or a few well-placed grenades. Ash suspected that the only reason the mercs hadn't tried was because they didn't want to destroy more of their valuable ships. The destruction of the Whirling Whore had already taken out half a dozen. Then there was the confusion created by the departure of the Reaper. Ash didn't understand what the hell had happened, especially not from Traynor's cryptic explanation. However she felt a perverse sense of satisfaction in imagining Aggra's anguished cries at the loss of his pet Reaper.

Ash wondered if it was too early to start celebrating. The Reaper had obviously not been destroyed, but whatever Sam had done, had at least made it leave. Ash watched for a few moments as it drew further away from Gurkan, half-expecting that it would turn back just to reduce them all to charred rubble for the hell of it. Regardless of what happened from that point, she considered the mission to be a success of sorts. Even if the whole squad was wiped out - a highly probable outcome – their primary objective had been achieved. Clan Aggra were no longer in possession of an active Reaper. Not to mention the fact that their leadership had been decimated with both Mrath and Sarl dead.

_Don't order any suicidal charges. Things aren't quite that bad – yet._ "Fuck," Ash whispered. They could make a run for one of the remaining merc ships, but it was likely they'd be destroyed before they could remove the security protocols and take off. Ash risked a quick glance over the crate, accompanied by another burst from her Revenant. Seconds later the rifle hissed and beeped in warning, its clip exhausted. Ash swore again and threw it to one side. The Carnifex at her side was almost empty. She glanced back towards Sam. The Chief wore a haunted expression as she huddled against the crate.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Ashley mouthed the words.

Sam shook her head in reply. "You did your best."

_Was my best ever good enough?_ The Corsairs were slowly being picked off one by one as the mercs pressed forward. One of the commandos went down without a cry, having been struck squarely in the chest. Westmoreland was bravely dragging a wounded Campbell back into cover. Ash checked the situation up front again. She wished she hadn't. Her body sagged as she saw a mech lurching towards the front lines. It was an antiquated, lumbering beast, but it would be enough to simply stroll up to their lines of defence and hack them all down without pause. Not for the first time Ash desperately wished she had her Black Widow. She'd punch straight through the mech's armour, right between the fucking pilot's eyes.

"Captain…ma'am, we've got a heavy incoming!" Petrova yelled. "Unless you want me to go at it with my bare hands, I'm all out of party favours."

_Cannon to right of them, cannon to left of them, cannon in front of them._ The words came easily. Ash's lips moved as she remembered the words. _Volley'd and thunder'd; storm'd at with shot and shell, boldly they rode and well, into the jaws of Death, into the mouth of Hell._

Her eyes misted over slightly, but she saw an approaching shape at the far end of the docking bay. Recognition dawned. It was the most amazing sight since she'd first laid eyes on the galactic treasure that was Miranda Lawson. The one thing in the Galaxy that could possibly be as beautiful as her lover – the silhouette of the SSV _Normandy_ SR-2. The frigate came in at speed, only Joker's exceptional piloting skills keeping it from colliding with the docked ships. Ash almost whooped when her comms flared to life.

_{Thought you might appreciate a lift, Captain.}_ Joker sounded like someone from another world, one that was far brighter.

"Do I ever, you handsome son of a bitch!" Ashley replied with unconcealed enthusiasm. "The LZ is red hot, so you'll have to come in hard."

_{I always do,}_ Joker replied cheekily.

The _Normandy_ executed a perfect 180 degree turn within the confines of the docking bay. The landing ramp descended and Ash saw several figures moving forward to provide the besieged Corsairs with covering fire. Ash clearly made out Steve Cortez. The shuttle pilot ignored the gunfire whizzing around him and moved to help the wounded aboard. Javik was at the forefront, sheathed in biotic energy as he plunged into the fray. He sent a huge sphere of dark energy careening towards a group of mercs, then almost casually detonated it. The mercs went sprawling. Ash still hated his guts, but at that moment in time she could have kissed him, right on his non-existent lips.

"C'mon, Traynor." Ash bodily hauled the young tech specialist to her feet. "We're getting off this rock."

Sam didn't reply, but the grateful expression on her face as she stood spoke volumes. Ash gave the young woman a helpful push, propelling her in the right direction. _Normandy_ crewmembers were already moving to assist Sam as Ashley turned her attention to the rest of the Corsairs. Most of the commandos appeared to be able to move under their own steam. Only Kurin was struggling, trying to single-handedly lift the dead body of one of her sisters. Ash lurched across the distance. Her vision swirled, reminding her that she was still drunk, but she succeeded in grabbing Kurin around the waist. The commando protested as Ash tried to drag her away.

"I'm not leaving her here!"

However two _Normandy_ crewmembers were already running past them. One covered the other as he retrieved the body. Kurin sagged into Ash's grip for a moment before both of them turned and ran in an awkward, stumbling gait. Ash felt a huge surge of relief the moment she heard the solid thunk of the _Normandy's_ decking beneath her boots, as though the ship was welcoming her home. Familiar faces swarmed around her. Chakwas was already tending to the wounded. Blood was streaming down Cortez's arm from a flesh wound, but he ignored it as he applied medi-gel on the wounds of a commando.

"That is the last," Javik announced in a calm voice that completely belied the urgency of the situation. "Let us leave this foul-smelling place."

Doubling over with her hands propped on her knees, Ash watched as the _Normandy_ 's ramp lifted, obscuring Gurkan from her view. If she never saw the dirty little rock again it would have been too soon. Despite the fact that she was safely aboard the _Normandy_ , she couldn't quite bring herself to believe that it was all over. As if to make a point, something slammed into the _Normandy'_ s hull with such ferocity that the internal dampeners did little to absorb the shock.

_{Ah, it appears that they're not going to let us leave without saying goodbye,}_ Joker said over the comm, his voice clearly strained.

"Of course they're not," Ash muttered through gritted teeth. "We thoroughly ruined their party." She turned to Kurin. "Can you take charge down here?"

At Kurin's exhausted nod, Ash started moving. With her first steps, the hanger spun around her like a carousel. She staggered forward and would have fallen if not for the sudden appearance of Traynor. The smaller woman propped her upright, kept her on her feet, and helped her get moving.

"You need to get Dr Chakwas to take a look at you," Sam warned as they walked.

"Not when there are soldiers back there dying," Ash replied. "I'm fine, I've just had too much to drink."

Sam wasn't convinced by Ashley's stubborn refusal. The Captain looked no better than she had thirty minutes earlier. Sam found herself supporting most of Ashley's weight to the point where her legs were almost buckling. Still, she was grateful to have an occupation. Something to take her mind away from the events that had unfolded within the Reaper. If she dared close her eyes, she saw Sarl's accusing gaze staring at her. In quiet moments, she could hear his last word, cut off when she shot him down.

The CIC was a hive of activity. They found Grenier standing above the Galaxy Map with a grim expression on his face. Yeoman Clayton was at her old station so Sam remained supporting Ashley, even as she gripped onto the side of a console. If they were in the midst of a flight for their lives, Sam would have demanded that the Captain take herself down to the medbay. All colour had drained from her face and her skin was clammy to touch. To top it all off, she had started to shiver violently.

"Where's the _Pserimos_?" Ash demanded, clearly ignoring her own wellbeing.

"We ran into a bit of company a few hours earlier," Grenier explained. "A patrol from Gurkan. The _Pserimos_ was leading them on a wild goose chase amid the dust clouds of a gas giant. I haven't heard from them since. We're on our own for now…and it appears as though the entire merc fleet is powering up to pursue. You must have made a hell of a lot friends down there because they're not about to let you leave in a hurry."

The _Normandy_ shuddered again. Sam was forced to reach out and grab the edge of the console to steady herself. Even then, she felt the entire vessel groaning beneath her feet. Although she couldn't see any readouts or sensors, she knew that the _Normandy_ was taking a severe battering from all angles.

_{Our shields are at thirty-four percent and rapidly falling,}_ EDI informed them in a sombre tone.

"Joker, you need to get us out of here…yesterday!" Ash yelled through gritted teeth.

_{You don't need to tell me twice, ma'am. Although if we jump to FTL, there's a good chance they'll hunt us down regardless.}_

As Sam looked on in anguish, she noticed that Ash was flagging fast. The Captain was now slumped against the handrails surrounding the Galaxy Map, breathing in deep, desperate gasps. "Punch in the escape coordinates…from my contact. I was assured it would be…safe."

_{Understood. Going to FTL in three…two…}_

"I trust your judgement, ma'am, but do we even know where the hell those lead?" Grenier asked Ash.

Ashley couldn't reply. Sam watched in mute horror as the Captain's eyes rolled back into her head. Her body then toppled from the command platform and slammed to the floor with a sickening crunch. She immediately went into violent convulsions, white froth bubbling from her lips. With a broken sounding cry, Sam dropped down at her side. For a tortured moment she was at a complete loss as to what to do. She clutched at her head as Ashley's thrashed about, her limbs jerking and smashing against the ground as though she were trying to break her own bones. She looked helplessly up at Grenier.

"EDI, you need to get Dr Chakwas to the CIC," Grenier ordered in a composed voice. "Without delay." He turned his attention back to his CO, trying to keep her from flailing about to the point where she injured herself. "Traynor, help me!"

Sam added her own meagre strength, grasping one of Ashley's clammy arms. She managed less than a few seconds before losing her grip. The hand lashed out and caught her full across the face. Her eyes were burning as she determinedly tried again.

Chakwas arrived in record time, her face set into a grim mask as she knelt at Ashley's side. "You took it all didn't you, you reckless girl," she whispered in a bitterly angry voice as she set about her work, trying to stabilise the Captain with several rapidly administered hyposprays. The convulsing stopped, but Ashley's breaths came in increasingly shallow gasps.

Sam immediately knew what Chakwas was referring to. "The ampules you gave her? I watched her inject both of them this morning."

Chakwas's head jerked upwards. Her eyes narrowed. "And you let her?"

"I didn't know what was in them!" Sam protested.

"I told her one…absolutely no more. One! She's gone into toxic shock, her organs…everything, her entire body is shutting down," Chakwas reported grimly as she checked Ashley's vitals with her omni-tool. "I need to get her down to the medbay and try to flush the toxins out." She looked up at Grenier for just a moment. "LC, I believe you are in charge."

"Is she going to die?" Sam asked, watching Chakwas and a huddle of crewmembers as they bundled Ash's limp body onto a waiting stretcher.

Chakwas didn't look at her. "It would be my fault if she did…and she'd bloody well deserve it…but I'm not going to let that happen, Traynor."

_{Um, hate to disturb you back there,}_ Joker said in a hesitant voice _. {But you might wanna take a look at where we are.}_

Both Grenier and Sam rose to their feet. The Galaxy Map was flashing up with their location.

"What the fuck are we doing on an approach run to Omega?" Grenier whispered in horror. "Joker, did you input the wrong coordinates?"

"Omega?" Sam whispered. She'd already had enough of mercs for one day…or possibly the rest of her life.

_{Ha!}_ was the acerbic laugh in response. _{The man thinks that I would input the wrong coordinates? EDI, a little back up here?}_

_{These are the correct coordinates, Lieutenant-Commander Grenier,}_ EDI informed him. _{We are on approach to the Omega space facility. If you wish to turn around, I must warm you that we are already on their sensors. There are vessels moving to intercept us. In the Normandy's current state, we cannot re-enter FTL. We are effectively…dead in the water}_

"Great," Grenier replied sarcastically. "Do you have any good news, EDI?"

_{We are being hailed from the station.}_

_{SSV Normandy, this is Dr Liara T'Soni. The vessels pursuing you will be deterred momentarily. Joker, you may proceed on your current course. Let me extend you all a warm welcome to Omega.}_

* * *

 

**A/N:** Ash quotes from Tennyson's Charge of the Light Brigade.


	33. One Bad-ass Scar

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

Since spending the morning in a mind-numbing state of boredom, Mycea Kasos' day had improved immeasurably. The _Normandy_ had just docked. Even though she had seen the ship years earlier, the sight of the sleek frigate manoeuvring into one of Omega's docking bays had her breath lodged in her throat. She kept her face pressed against the glass, watching the frigate's every move eagerly.

"Anyone would think you’ve never seen an Alliance vessel before." Shepard was standing just behind her, watching without any apparent enthusiasm.

"It's the _Normandy_."

"It's just a ship," Shepard replied. Her dismissal was clearly forced.

Shepard lasted only a few more moments before she joined Myke near the window. "Looks like she's taken a battering."

Myke had watched hundreds, if not thousands of ships arrive at Omega. While the _Normandy_ wasn't in the worst state by far, the damage to its hull was extensive. Black scorch marks had seared away much of the paint work on the side Myke could see. There were minor hull breaches from prow to stern and several appendages had been sheared off altogether. Two of its thrusters had gone dark. Although Myke knew little about piloting ships, she could still admire the skill it must have required to keep it under control.

Shepard remained quiet – even more so than usual. Myke discreetly turned to watch her friend. The former soldier's nose was now squashed against the glass. Tears were slowly rolling down her cheek. A quiet sob suddenly caught in her throat.

Myke stood and watched awkwardly _. Ignore the fact that she's crying?_ It seemed callous. _Soldiers don't want you to see them crying_. Myke didn't even know where she'd heard that stupid mantra. All she knew was that Shepard wasn't a soldier, not anymore. She made her decision. Without a word, Myke closed the already short distance between them and wrapped an arm tightly around Shepard's waist. Hugging was a foreign experience. _Too tight? Not tight enough? Or is this just too weird?_ Her questions were answered a moment later when she felt Shepard relax into the touch.

"Hey, why are we one-level too high? The crew will be disembarking down there," Myke pointed out.

"I'm dead," Shepard replied simply. Brutally. "I can't go parading around in front of the whole crew. Liara and Samara will greet them."

Myke pulled away in surprise. "How can you stand there and say that? Those are your friends down there?"

Shepard smiled sadly. "This is killing me, Myke, but it's for the best."

Myke sighed, unable to fully appreciate Shepard's resolve for the simple fact that she thought the human was being fucking ridiculous. Shepard's jaw was set stubbornly. Myke let it go. Silence settled again. Almost in tandem, the pair went back to squashing their noses against the glass. Now straining for a glimpse of the first crewmembers to emerge from Normandy's airlock. Myke suppressed a simmering jealously when she saw Samara. She imagined that she was the one standing down there next to Liara. _Ha! Those humans would all be asking themselves who the fuck is that?_ The jealousy didn't linger. Not when Myke reminded herself that Shepard had asked her to come to the docks. Shepard needed someone, and had asked her personally. She was exactly where she was meant to be. Myke glanced across at Shepard to check whether she needed another hug, but the tears were already drying on her pale cheeks.

"Don't look down now." Shepard turned, caught Myke staring at her, and grinned. "It's probably better if you just keep looking at me."

"Better? What do you-" Myke turned, recognised exactly what Shepard was referring to, and slammed her face against the glass almost painfully in aid of getting a better view. "Commandos…there are commandos coming out of the _Normandy._ Gorgeous, battle-hardened commandos in their combat leathers. At least half a dozen, if not more.”

"Told you not to look," Shepard added. "Now it's your turn to wipe the drool off your face, Kasos."

* * *

 

Without having set foot on Omega, Sam had already seen enough of the place. She caught glimpses of bright lights and frenetic activity from the _Normandy's_ viewing ports. It wasn’t enough to disguise Omega's underlying nature. Nor could she allow herself to feel any sort of relief at having survived Gurkan. Lingering guilt and fear kept her stomach tied into painful knots.

With the _Normandy_ docked safely, Sam slipped away quietly and made her way down to the med-bay. She had no desire to join those crew members jostling for furlough – seeking a chance to lose themselves in the oblivion of alcohol at some place called Afterlife. Her thoughts didn't extend much further beyond the wellbeing of her Captain.

The med-bay wasn't the hive of activity Sam had expected. Three of the beds were occupied – one with a commando, one with Sarah Campbell and the other with Ashley. All three were unconscious, but apparently peacefully so. Nor was Sam the only one with Ashley on her mind. Commander Kurin was in a chair next to Ashley's bed, so exhausted that she'd gone to sleep with her head resting on the edge of the bed.

The asari awoke with a start when she heard footsteps, looking dazed for a few moments before her frosty exterior returned. As though she hadn't intended to be there at all, Kurin rose quickly and left without even acknowledging Sam.

Dr Chakwas sat at her desk, looking drawn but alert. She swivelled in her chair. "Chief. It's about time you came to get that treated."

"Treated?" Why did she even need treatment? Other than for the crippling guilt which couldn't be treated with medi-gel. Sam belatedly realised she was trembling.

"Come and sit down, Samantha." Chakwas patted the edge of an empty bed.

As Sam obliged, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and stopped. Her scalp, just above her ear, had been laid open in a jagged, raw wound. At some point during the firefight, she'd been hit. Sam had no memory of the impact. She felt no pain, even though it looked as though it ought to be painful. The wound had been bleeding profusely and much of the right side of her head was covered in dried blood. Sam's knees suddenly buckled. Chakwas reached out with a surprisingly strong grip, preventing her from hitting the deck. Nothing could help her churning stomach. Moments later, Sam vomited noisily into a bowl, seemingly procured magically by Chakwas. In reality, the doctor was just adept at recognising someone on the verge of throwing up.

Sam finished retching up the meal she didn't remember eating. Chakwas swapped the bowl for a damp towel, which Sam gratefully used. Again, it was almost like magic. Both dirt and fatigue were wiped away at the same time.

"Why don't you lie down while I see to that," Chakwas suggested.

Sam shook her head stubbornly. "I'm fine, Dr Chakwas."

"Samantha, lie down." Clearly it hadn't been a suggestion.

Only when Sam was stretched out on the bio bed, with the soft gel moulding beneath her body, did she realise how utterly exhausted she was. "Captain Williams?" Sam murmured as she fought to keep her eyes open.

"She'll survive," Chakwas replied perfunctorily. "Although when she wakes up she'll probably wish she were dead."

"Hangover?"

"One very pissed off doctor." Chakwas obviously wasn't pleased at her advice being ignored.

"I wouldn't want to be Ashley," Sam replied, wincing as Chakwas began cleaning the side of her head. "Doctor Chakwas? Can stressful situations force someone to become a different person? To do something they wouldn't ordinarily be capable of?"

Chakwas responded with a patient smile. Sam reminded herself that the woman was a medical doctor, not a psychotherapist. She felt guilty for asking.

"Yes and no. Sometimes people react differently when under pressure, but more often than not it simply serves as a spark, bringing out what was there all along."

_What was there all along?_ Sam clearly remembered the precise, detached manner in which she had lifted her pistol and fired. For all her lessons with Ashley, she'd never discovered the knack of shooting with a pistol. Her arm was never steady enough. Yet in that moment, her arm had been as solid as a rock. It had been easy. Three effortless jerks of her finger. One dead Krogan.

"I just shot him." Sam didn't remember consciously forming the words. Once past her lips, once she said them aloud, they hit her like a ton of bricks. Her eyes burned, giving her only a moment of warning before her body was racked by full blown sobs that shook her small frame. Sam tried to apologise, but she couldn't force the words past the sobs.

Chakwas laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to give you a minor sedative, Samantha. Just something to help you sleep."

Sam panicked, trying to bolt upright. "I can't go to sleep without brushing my teeth!"

Chakwas placed a gentle hand on her chest. Sam then felt something against her neck, then the tingling sensation that followed. Her bitter anger at not being allowed to brush her teeth lasted for only a moment before a comfortable warmth descended. Sleep sounded like the most wonderful suggestion anyone had ever made. To forget everything.

* * *

 

The sleep that followed was deep and blissfully dreamless. It wasn't until Sam fully regained consciousness on the other side of sleep that she appreciated just how exhausted she had been. Even though she heard the quiet murmurs of others in the room, Sam was in no hurry to open her eyes. She lingered in the warmth. Someone had taken the trouble to remove her boots and cover her with a blanket. Further sleep was a distinct possibility until Sam reminded herself that she was filthy. Her stomach then rumbled – apparently she was also ravenous. Not to mention the whole teeth cleaning disaster. Sam passed the tip of her tongue over her teeth and winced. It was the final straw. She opened her eyes. The lights in the med-bay were mercifully dim. Sam made out two figures standing in the centre of the room. One was clearly Chakwas, the other appeared to be one of the commandos. Then, a familiar voice tugged at Sam's gut. Soft and undeniably sexy, but off limits. Always off limits.

Wearily, Sam propped herself up on her elbows. Her vision cleared. The asari definitely wasn't one of the commandos. It was Liara T'Soni.

Although Sam felt an instinctive pleasure upon seeing Liara, she winced at being seen wearing her filthy merc outfit and with un-brushed teeth. It was too late to feign sleep, or make an escape, Liara was already approaching. Sam was determined to at least get out of bed.

"Samantha," Liara greeted her quietly. “It is wonderful to see you.”

As Sam worried about smelling foul, Liara drew her in for a warm hug. Having only ever had the opportunity to wrap her arms around the stunning asari once before, Sam couldn't contain the inevitable thrill that followed. Her libido – the one thing that apparently still worked, despite everything.

"I have been hearing rumours about your actions on Gurkan," Liara continued. "It would seem that we have much to thank you for."

Sam's mouth worked, but no sound emerged. What was there to thank her for? Shooting an unsuspecting Krogan who was just trying to get laid? Or having her memories read by an unhinged immortal being before crying like a child?

Sam hung her head, unable to meet Liara's gaze any longer. "It great to see you, Liara, but I need to hit the shower," she mumbled. _And brush my teeth_.

The med-bay door opened. Yet another person entered. Sam waited for Chakwas to berate the newcomer for disturbing her patients, but nothing happened. Even more unusual, the individual wore a hood drawn up over her head. A hood? Whilst walking around the _Normandy_? As Sam watched, slender fingers reached up to draw the hood back. It was a young woman Sam didn't recognise. Despite the fact that she wasn't _Normandy_ crew, neither Liara nor Chakwas reacted. Even more disturbing was the fact that the stranger was staring at Sam as though she knew her. Then the woman smiled, and some element of recognition finally registered.

"That haircut suits you, Traynor."

It was the voice that drilled straight through to Sam's core. However, something about it would not register. It was impossible. The individual in question was dead. Sam had witnessed first-hand the colossal inferno that consumed the Crucible. No one could have survived that. Not even Commander Shepard. Yet this woman spoke like her. Looked like her – at least when she smiled. Sam had only ever known Shepard with her face ravaged by scars. The person standing in front of her was unblemished, looking even younger that Sam herself _. It's impossible_. Sam looked again to both Liara and Chakwas, both simply stared expectantly. They were waiting for her to respond. It was impossible, but it had happened.

"Comman-" Sam stopped herself. She found it surprisingly difficult to say it aloud. As though she was speaking to a dead woman. "Commander Shepard?"

Shepard's smile broadened. "Traynor…or should I say Chief Traynor these days?"

Sam couldn't force her limbs to move. When she did eventually jump off the side of the bed, her legs gave way beneath her. She hit the floor heavily. Shepard was at her side in a heartbeat, picking her up, hugging her fiercely. Sam was still in a state of shock. Her concerns wouldn't let her relax.

"Shepard…" Sam felt her body tremble slightly. "Please…" She pushed her back weakly, staring down at the floor, at her grimy, entirely inappropriate attire. "You just had to choose this moment didn't you? With me looking like…" Sam went from being tongue-tied, to being unable to stop herself talking. "I stink…and I haven't brushed my teeth since…well, I just really need to brush them."

Shepard applied gentle pressure beneath Sam's chin, tilting her gaze upwards. "Traynor…Sam, I really don't care how ripe you are. We're marines remember? We're supposed to smell bad."

A laugh escaped Sam's mouth. She had found out Commander Shepard was still alive, and her only concern was how bad she smelled. She needed to work on her priorities.

There were any one of a dozen or more questions Sam could have asked at that point, but none of them seemed important. Shepard was alive. "You look-" _Super, super hot. Stop it, Liara is standing right there!_ "-different. In a good way of course."

"Thanks, Sam."

"The rest of the crew will want to see you, Joker! Cortez…and Captain Williams of course, when she wakes up," Sam said hurriedly.

"Yeah, about that," Shepard began. "I need to keep this between us…Dr Chakwas and you so far. The whole situation is…complicated and the fewer people that know about me at this stage, the better."

"But the Alliance, they'll want to know that you're alive," Sam suggested.

A stony expression enveloped Shepard's features. "The Alliance doesn't need to know anything about me, period. Understood, Traynor?" Sam had forgotten how hard-edged Shepard's voice could be.

Sam was slightly taken aback, "Yes, ma'am. Absolutely."

Shepard's demeanour softened. "You don't need to call me ma'am."

"Understood…Shepard," Sam replied. Hours earlier she'd been in a firefight with mercs, now she was standing in front of a dead woman. It was turning out to be one hell of a day. "But I will be seeing you…around. On Omega?"

"Definitely. Liara wanted to debrief you as soon as you woke up." Shepard cast a glance towards the asari. "But I managed to talk her out of it. You'll have twenty-four hours before I let her sink her claws into you. So go…brush your teeth, shower, get some more rest."

"Thank you," Sam replied sincerely. Although she was slightly unnerved at the fact that she didn't mind the thought of being hooked by Liara's claws.

"And, Sam?" Sam stopped walking as Shepard smiled warmly. "It is really good to see you."

It required something of an effort for Sam to leave the med-bay on her jelly-like legs. Her brain was still processing, still demanding to know whether everything had unfolded as she remembered it. Now that she was no longer in Shepard's presence, the questions she knew she ought to have asked came flooding back. How the hell was Shepard even alive? And the expression that crossed Shepard's face when Sam mentioned the Alliance. Sam shook her head. She needed a shower. She'd continued processing when she was clean.

An unfamiliar asari was perched on the end of one of the mess tables. These days Sam was used to seeing asari hanging around the _Normandy_ , but this was not another member of Kurin's crew. The asari was wearing an N7 hoodie and a grin that was far too friendly to belong to one of the taciturn commandos. Although not wanting to blatantly stare as she moved past, Sam couldn't help but be entranced by the vivid pink slashes of colour that accentuated the stranger’s features.

"I was shot once," the asari announced without any other form of introduction. "It's pretty cool isn't it?"

"Um, it is?" Sam had to stop in her tracks. "It just kind of hurt…well, after I realised I'd actually been shot."

"Yeah, it does," the asari admitted with a shrug. "You should get an impressive scar though. Mine is kinda small. Wanna see it? Don't worry, it's not on my butt or anything like that."

"Um…" Sam shook her head slightly, taken aback. She'd spent two weeks staring at asari who ignored her unless they wanted something to do with the mission. Even Liara T'Soni, an asari whom she possibly considered a friend, often seemed unapproachable.

Suddenly the asari in front of her winced almost comically. "Fuck. Showing someone your scar when you've just met them is probably really weird isn't it?"

"It is…a little." Sam was exhausted, but she couldn't help but smile. "And I haven't even met you properly."

"Shit." The asari darted forward, her hand outstretched. "Mycea Kasos." She took Sam's hand and pumped it enthusiastically. "Pretty much everyone calls me Myke…except Liara…and Samara. So everyone that isn't a stuck-up asari. I didn't mean to accost you on your way to…wherever you're going. Shepard told me to sit here quietly, so that's what I was doing, but…I had to say hello didn't I?"

"Well, you didn't exactly say hello," Sam pointed out. "You were talking about being shot. And I'm Samantha Traynor. Traynor if you're in the service…and if not, just Sam."

"Just Sam?" Mycea replied with a wink. "It seems like there's a lot more to you than just Sam?"

_Holy fuck._ Sam's cheeks burned so intensely she couldn't deal with anything. She desperately needed to change the subject. "Um, so…you're friends with Shepard?"

"I work for her," Myke replied, a hint of pride clearly resonant in her voice. "And you're with the _Normandy_ crew..." She twisted her lip awkwardly. "Obviously. I'm sorry. You were on your way somewhere, I've taken up too much of your time."

"No, you haven't. It has been…" _Completely weird?_ But Sam couldn't help but feel drawn to the hopeful expression on Myke's face. "Nice meeting you. If you're friends with Shepard, then I'll be seeing you?"

"Count on it," Myke replied.

It wasn't until Sam was savouring the feeling of a day's worth of grime being blasted from her body five minutes later that she fully appreciated just how weird the whole conversation had been. _It's not cool to get shot_ , Sam thought as she gingerly probed at the edges of the wound on the side of her head. It hurt like hell and in all likelihood her hair wouldn't grow back along the length of the scar.

_Still,_ she mused _, I will look slightly bad-ass._

* * *

 

Shepard had watched Samantha Traynor walk out of the med-bay with her guilt returning in full force. She recognised that look in someone's eyes all too well, and knew that Sam's experience on Gurkan had profoundly affected her. Shepard remembered trying to protect Sam from ever having that look in her eyes. She felt as though she had failed.

Liara was staring at her with a concerned expression. Shepard just nodded in response. She was fine. For now.

Liara and Chakwas gave Shepard space as she approached Ashley's bed, moving near the door where they spoke in inaudible whispers. The whispers faded altogether as Shepard looked down at her friend. A bitter smile creased her face.

"You look like shit, Ash," she said quietly.

That was being kind. Deathly pale skin, hollow cheeks and shallow, rasping breaths combined to make the marine almost unrecognisable. Shepard reached out and gently smoothed a clump of purple hair away from Ashley's forehead.

"I don't suppose you've told Miranda about your new look? You never know, she might find the whole purple thing attractive."

Shepard could almost hear Ash's response to that statement. _"Have you met Miranda Lawson? Not fucking likely_."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

Shepard sighed as she took a seat next to the bed. When she reached out to pick up one of Ashley's hands, she found it cold and clammy. She ran her thumb gently over the calluses on Ashley's palm. Soldier's calluses. Ashley's bones felt frail beneath even her gentle grip. Instinctively, she pressed her lips against Ash's knuckles.

"I've never been good at this sort of thing, Ash, but if you can hear me in there, promise me you're doing everything you can to come back to us. You mean a hell of a lot to a lot of people – regardless of how unimportant you think you are. Abby, Lynn, and Sarah want their sister to come back, I want my best friend back, and I'm pretty damn sure that Miranda can't live without you. And you know how self-reliant she pretends to be. She needs you, Ash, regardless of the bloody awful purple hair…and those tattoos."

Shepard found both Liara and Myke waiting for her outside the med-bay. Shepard could see her bondmate was concerned and reached out to hold her hand for a moment. She then tugged her hood back up over her head. Even though the _Normandy_ was mostly deserted, she felt that it was a necessary precaution.

"EDI, I know you've been watching," Shepard suddenly said quietly.

_{I have been researching the statistical probability of a human coming back from the dead twice,}_ EDI replied. _{It is, by all accounts, impossible to even return once, but I find myself unconcerned by the anomaly. I am…pleased to see you, Shepard.}_

"It's great to…hear you too, EDI," Shepard replied. "You need to keep this…me, as quiet as possible. You can't tell Joker, not yet."

_{Understood, Commander.}_

Shepard let EDI's slip go, although she suspected the AI had made the mistake deliberately. Overall, while it felt strange to be back on board the _Normandy_ , a part of her felt as though she had never left. Virtually nothing had changed, apart from the fact that her name was now included on the memorial wall. Seeing that had felt extremely odd. It was a sobering reminder that most of the Galaxy considered her to be dead.

"What do you think of the _Normandy_ , Myke?" Shepard asked as they made their way back to the airlock. She needed an excuse to talk. Anything to take her mind off the sight of seeing Ashley lying in the med-bay looking so unlike the marine she remembered.

"Oh…it's brilliant," Myke replied.

"I guess we couldn't rustle up any commandos though," Shepard said as she looked towards her friend. "They'll probably all be in Afterlife if you're feeling brave."

Myke had an absent look on her face. "Huh? Oh, commandos…right."

"You don't care about the commandos?" Shepard asked, raising her eyebrows. "Who are you and what have you done with the Myke I know?"

Myke looked slightly giddy, or giddier than usual, as a stupid grin spread across her face. "I'm fine, honestly. I've just realised that I spend too much time thinking about commandos."

Shepard stared at Myke with a dubious expression on her face. The young asari was bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet as they waited for the elevator. "You're really weird, you know that right?"

The elevator door opened. Shepard was still looking warily at Myke as they entered.

Myke was blissfully unconcerned. "But not too weird right? Just weird enough to be a little bit interesting?" However, she wasn't interested in Shepard's answer as she continued, "The _Normandy_ will be here for some time though right? Like…long enough to get to know someone?"

"A few weeks, if not longer," Shepard replied. "Why?"

Myke chewed on her bottom lip, as though she was considering something. Then she looked at Shepard and shook her head. "No reason. How was your friend?"

"She's as tough as they come. I think she's going to be alright," Shepard replied, feeling an immense sense of relief. She narrowed her eyes. "You're deflecting, Kasos."

Myke had the gall to wink at her as she skipped out of the elevator.

* * *

 

Ashley discharged herself from the med-bay after having been awake for over twenty-four hours and about to climb the walls with boredom. She waited for Chakwas to leave the room and simply walked out, doing her best not to let her bare ass hang out as she half-lurched, half-stumbled her way to the elevator. Ash felt weak, pathetically so, but somehow she managed to make it up to the Nest. She'd never been so relieved to shut herself away in her personal space. Revelling in the solitude by stripping the paper gown from her body in the middle of the room. It took almost a mild tantrum to get it free. She even went as far as to try and kick the offending garment.

Ash dragged herself into the shower and almost cried when the deliciously hot water hit her skin. Ignoring regulations, she remained beneath the stream of water until she was satisfied that she had managed to completely purge the filth of Gurkan from her body. As she stood with her eyes closed, half-formed memories came back to her. Pieces of conversation, voices – Kurin, Dr Chakwas, and – implausibly – Shepard. _Must've had some crazy dreams while I was out._

It was a relief to dress in her own clothes. Sturdy Alliance fatigues. Although the heavy fabric scraped roughly against her skin, it felt like silk compared to the costume she'd worn on Gurkan.

Her peace lasted scarcely another minute longer before the Nest's door chime buzzed impatiently. Ash sighed. Chakwas had obviously come to berate her for escaping. _Lock the door? No. I bet EDI is in cahoots with Chakwas._

However, when she reluctantly admitted her visitor, Ash's tired facial muscles managed a warm smile. It was Liara.

"Dr T'Soni."

"After all we have been through, is it still Dr T'Soni?" Liara asked blithely.

"Just for old times' sake."

Ash surprised herself with the speed at which she managed to cross the Nest to take Liara into a warm embrace. It was the first time they had seen each other in person since the grey, devastating day in London almost a year earlier.

"Hey, Liara. It's good to see you."

"I arrived on board to find Dr Chakwas rather unhappy about a certain patient having gone missing from her med-bay." Liara held Ash at arm's length. "I promised I would track you down."

Ash scowled. She couldn't help it. "I'm not going back to that damn med-bay. Not when there's so much work to do. The _Normandy_ is a wreck and you've brought us to Omega of all places. Don't get me wrong, I'm exceedingly grateful to still be in one piece. But I can't do shit here. How do I know Aria T'Loak isn't about to seize my ship and sell the crew to slavers?"

Liara stared tolerantly at Ash throughout the tirade. Her expression was blatantly and unapologetically amused. "You have heard too many stories, Ashley. Believe it or not, Aria T'Loak is actually quite accommodating. Omega is probably one of the safest places in the Galaxy for the _Normandy_ …likewise for myself."

Ash sighed. She felt an immediate sense of relief with Liara's reassurance. With the tension cleared, she studied her friend. Ash was surprised to find Liara looking as well as she'd ever seen her – healthy and in good spirits. It was not at all how Ash would have expected to find the young asari, especially after she hadn't done a bloody thing to keep her promise to Shepard.

"You look well, Liara," Ash said sincerely. Ash however, felt like crap. She'd made her escape from the med-bay without appreciating just how ravaged her body was. Even simply standing was beginning to take a toll. Before she could collapse in front of Liara, Ash took a seat and tried to look as relaxed as possible. In reality she had a headache that felt as though something was trying to split her head open from within.

Without saying a word, Liara retrieved a glass, filled it with water from the bathroom and returned with several pills in her palm.

"From Dr Chakwas," Liara explained.

Ash accepted them gratefully. Hoping, as she swallowed, that they would act quickly. "Of all the shit-for-brains things that I've ever done, this latest stunt tops them all," Ash admitted. "Other than clearly being pissed, did Chakwas say anything?"

"You almost died, Ashley," Liara scolded her. "So it is probably a good thing that you escaped. You are not Dr Chakwas's favourite person at this point in time."

Ash tilted her head so it rested on the back of the sofa. She closed her eyes. The absence of light felt good. "I thought I was dead for a moment. I saw Shepard…or heard her. I don't know exactly, but for a time I felt as though she was there with me." Ash swallowed. Her throat was dry so she took another sip of water. Chakwas had obviously cared enough to give her the good stuff. Her headache was already receding. Her exhaustion unfortunately was not. "I'm sorry, Liara. I'm not exactly cheery conversation material right now. Although I could kiss Chakwas."

"I should leave you to rest," Liara said.

"You can stay can't you?" Ash asked plaintively. She opened her eyes. "I don't want to go back to sleep…not yet anyway."

A small sigh escaped Liara's lips. "Ashley…"

Her voice trailed off. Ash frowned. If anything, Liara suddenly seemed nervous. Bad news? "Did something happen to one of the crew while I was out? Traynor? Shit, I didn't even ask how she is."

"Samantha is fine," Liara replied quickly. She shook her head. "This is not about your crew. I do not know if you are ready, but…"

"Ready for what?"

Liara clasped her hands together anxiously. "She is being her usual self…stubborn and insistent. I do not feel that I can deny her again. Not when you are actually here."

"Liara, forgive me if I'm being rude, but what the hell are you trying to say?"

"I do not think I can explain. You need to see for yourself."

Ash frowned as Liara turned and made a quick gesture in the direction of the door. Booted footsteps were followed shortly afterward by the appearance of a young woman wearing civvies and military-issue combat boots. The newcomer walked forward until she was standing next to Liara. Ash's brain couldn't process what it was seeing quickly enough. She found herself staring at a young woman - seemingly unremarkable save for an understated beauty and an air of confidence about her as she stood with her hands thrust in her pockets. Her eyes were a bright, shining blue. However, when her lips curled upward into an unforgettable smile, Ash found the air driven from of her lungs in a strangled gasp. Minus the scars, with her hair longer and a more relaxed expression on her face, the woman looked exactly like Shepard. Ash rose slowly to her feet.

"Skipper?" she whispered in disbelief.

"I'm not Skipper of anything, Ash...but yeah," Shepard replied in a soft voice. "It's me."

At that point Ashley realised that the woman's eyes were shining due to unshed tears. Her own eyes burned fiercely even as she fought to hold everything together. "What the fuck?" was the only coherent sentence she could manage. Nothing made sense, so she repeated herself, "What the fuck? I saw the Crucible go up with you inside. No one could have survived that…"

Ash's voice trailed off. Dozens of questions bombarded her consciousness, all jostling for priority until none were coherent enough to make any sense. Eventually she had to try to block everything out. She looked at Liara beseechingly. "Liara, what the hell is this?"

Liara shook her head as she turned to look at the woman standing next to her. "I told you she was not ready."

"I've got this, Liara." The woman held up her hand, signalling for Liara to stay put as she moved forward. "I'm sorry to spring this on you now, Ash, but I couldn't wait any longer. I needed you to know."

It sounded so much like Shepard. Ash desperately wanted to believe it was her. "The first time was hard enough. But twice? Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"Ash," the woman whispered. She stretched out a pale white hand and touched Ash's arm.

The touch was icy cold. Ash snatched her arm away. "Don't fucking touch me!"

The exertion was too much. Ash's heartbeat was racing at what felt like a million miles a minute. Tiny pinpricks started to appear at the corners of her vision. She knew she was going to crash out. _Not now, not here with that thing!_ Ash fought for consciousness, yet the harder she tried the more difficult it became. The Shepard-thing was still trying to move towards her. She backed away. It said something in a voice that dripped with fake concern. Ash reeled backwards. Her legs gave out. The woman darted forward, catching her before she could hit the ground. Every breath felt like a struggle.

"Breathe, Ash. You need to breathe," the woman urged gently, still sounding exactly like Shepard. "EDI, can you call Dr Chakwas to the Nest?"

Ash concentrated – in and out, in and out. Her heartrate dropped and the constricting sensation in her chest slowly started to dissipate. "You've managed to con EDI into thinking you're Shepard huh?" Ash asked. Her voice sounded hollow. Reed thin.

"Yeah," came the soft reply. "You should look at her security protocols. They're obviously a bit shit if she's letting imposters stroll around the _Normandy_."

Ash closed her eyes. Her clean fatigues already felt as though they were soaked in sweat. She was finally willing to admit to herself that she'd escaped the med-bay prematurely. While her eyes were closed, Ash felt a gentle touch across her brow. A clump of hair was smoothed away from her forehead. The simple movement triggered an immediate sense of déjà vu.

"You were here yesterday. In the med-bay?"

"I was."

Ash licked her lips. They were dry and cracked. "Let's say, just for a moment, that I believe you're Shepard. If you're bullshitting me, then I swear I will kick your ass…as soon as I'm able to kick asses again."

A soft chuckle followed. "Ha. You could never kick my arse, Williams."

Ash opened her eyes. Awareness flooded her body. She was lying on her back, cradled in Shepard's lap. Now that Ash was actually looking at her – _really_ looking at her – she didn't know how she failed to recognise Shepard immediately. Save for the long hair, Ash felt as though she was looking at the same Shepard she'd met on Eden Prime years earlier. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She fought against them – marines didn't cry – but they welled up regardless.

"I needed you," Ash whispered. "Where the fuck were you?"

Shepard was visibly affected by the question. She swallowed awkwardly before replying. "I wanted to be there for you, Ash, but it's…a long story. A complicated…extremely unromantic one. I'll gladly fill you in when you're up for it."

As soon as Ash saw Dr Chakwas come into her field of view, she put an immense effort into sitting up. "I'm fine, doc, honestly. It was just this asshole giving me a bloody big shock."

"I'll be the judge of whether you're fine, Williams," Chakwas said, making her disapproval clear as she knelt in front of Ash. She brought up her omni-tool and began scanning in a perfunctory manner. "Not to mention the fact that I don't recall discharging you from the med-bay."

"Is she going to be alright, doc?" Shepard asked.

"Physically? Yes….eventually," Chakwas replied. "Although the idiot came about a hairsbreadth from killing herself. It's entirely your fault, Shepard. Where else would she have learned to be so stubborn and pig-headed? Thinking she can take on the whole Galaxy by herself."

"Hey, I'm right here!" Ash protested.

"And you're bloody lucky I don't order you straight back to the med-bay! As it is, Liara and Shepard are helping you only as far as your bed."

Ten minutes later, Shepard, Liara and Chakwas were all in agreement that Ashley was the worst patient they had ever encountered. As the visitors prepared to leave the Nest, Ash couldn't take her eyes off Shepard. All those months of believing her to be dead…again. The months of carrying around an agonising weight on her shoulders as she struggled to live up to the legacy left by her former Commander.

Despite her increasing sense of joy, Ash instinctively knew that she wouldn't be hanging up her Captain's mantle any time soon. Even without a word of explanation, Ash knew something was wrong. Shepard was clearly hiding on Omega for a reason.

Shepard caught her staring and flashed another quick smile.

"Hey, Skipper? You've got to stop dying. People get used to having you around, then you bloody die again. It's fucking inconsiderate. Never again, okay?"

Shepard's smile broadened. "Not until we're old, wrinkled and grey, Ash. I promise."

* * *

 

It had been another long day in two weeks of long days. Taking Shepard to see Ashley had been the final straw, pushing Liara from fatigue to exhaustion. As a result she did not linger over her Broker work. She only needed to brief Hannah Shepard on the state of the _Normandy_ and thank her profusely for working a double shift.

"Don't thank me, Liara," Hannah was quick to reply. "I'm just grateful that the _Normandy_ came back in one piece. It would have destroyed Evie if anything happened to that ship and its crew."

Liara nodded her agreement. No words were necessary. Even more so than Hannah, she knew how terrible a toll the past week had extracted on her bondmate. It was an awful thought to even ruminate on, but a part of Liara was grateful that Shepard had not seen Ashley's last message when there was still time to act on it. Nothing she could have said or done, would have stopped Shepard from trying to help.

"Are you alright without Mr Macklin?" Liara inquired politely.

Hannah managed a chuckle. "I'm not so dependent on the man that I can't live without him for a few weeks." The mirth was short-lived. "You were right to ask Mack to get the job done, Liara. Anderson is important to us. Mack will see him to safety."

"I have every confidence that he will. We have already asked too much of Lucy and her wife," Liara commented. "I will speak with you again soon, Hannah. Evan sends her love."

Liara found Shepard perched on the side of their unmade bed, wearing only boxers and a tank-top. Although Shepard was staring at the view beyond the window, Liara could tell simply from the expression on her bondmate's face that she was deep in thought. She undressed, throwing her clothes haphazardly over a chair which already contained an entire week's worth of dirty laundry. Liara felt the days' sweat clinging to her in an uncomfortable layer, but she was too tired to bother with a shower. That, and a week's worth of chores, could wait for another eight hours.

Without a word, Liara rested her cheek against Shepard's shoulder. Her bondmate's skin felt cold to the touch, indicating how long she had been sitting there, staring out the window. A few moments later, a ragged sigh escaped Shepard's lips. So much was contained in that brief exhalation – relief, exhaustion, and more than a little regret. Some minutes passed, but neither felt the need to speak.

Eventually Shepard shifted slightly. Liara's neck was beginning to go stiff, so she straightened. She reached out to hold Shepard's hand instead.

"How highly do I rate my own abilities that I can convince myself that the mission would have gone differently had I been there?" Shepard asked. "Am I that self-absorbed?"

Liara touched her bondmate with a multitude of caresses – her bare arms, the cool surface of her artificial hand, the small of her back – attempting to offer as much reassurance as she could. "Ashley is an outstanding marine and a capable leader, but she is not you, Evan. I have no doubt that events would have unfolded differently, but not necessarily for the better. In the end, the team got the job done…even if the manner in which it was achieved was definitely reminiscent of one of your more insane stunts."

"Was I ever that bad?"

"Frequently," Liara replied without humour. She realised she was letting slip her lingering resentment over all the times Shepard had almost ended up dead…and the times she actually had.

"I'm sorry," Shepard offered. Small words in the face of something as significant as death.

"We are together now," Liara replied. It was more than enough.

"I've never seen Ash look that bad, not even after that Cerberus thing shot her three times on Mars. And Sam…I know she was putting on a brave face, but she looked haunted. How much more are they going to have to sacrifice before all of this is over?" Shepard suddenly laughed bitterly. "We don't even know what 'over' means anymore. The damn war is over, but the peace is so fragile it feels like a sneeze would top it over the edge. Even after opening my eyes to everything that is going on with the Alliance, I'm no closer to knowing what the hell to do. Meanwhile my friends are nearly getting killed – Ash, Sam, everyone on the _Normandy_ , Anderson. God, Liara, I don't know-"

Liara gently but decisively wrapped her fingers around Shepard's chin and brought them face to face. She cupped Shepard's cheeks with the palms of her hands. Temporarily silencing any fears with a kiss.

"Evan, you need to stop," Liara whispered. "For tonight at least. You can sleep knowing that the _Normandy_ is safe, and that Ash is going to be alright. She knows now, surely that will give you some peace of mind?"

Shepard nodded in response. Liara frowned, knowing that Shepard was only nodding because that a nod was expected. Her entire body remained obviously tense. Liara coaxed Shepard down against the pillows, but she could feel the tightly wound cords of muscles beneath her touch. Although Shepard's eyes closed, Liara could almost see her mind continuing to work, refusing to rest. Wordlessly, she hooked her fingers beneath the band of Shepard's boxers and began sliding them down over her hips. Shepard's eyes opened at the movement.

"Liara." The protest was half-hearted at best.

"Shut up, Evan." A blatant order.

With the boxers tossed aside, Liara encouraged Shepard to part her legs with the barest of touches. Liara then nestled between Shepard's legs, layering kisses across soft skin she moved downwards. Meanwhile her hands, fingers splayed wide, travelled up Shepard's body, delving beneath her thin top to find Shepard's breasts. Liara ignored the tired protests of her own body, stretched out as she was, as she lowered her lips to Shepard's sex. She inhaled deeply. Shepard's scent was invigorating and arousing. Although her body quickened in response, she ignore the ache. From that point she kept her movements slow and deliberate, putting thought into each caress, and each application of pressure with her lips or her tongue.

Shepard responded eagerly beneath her ministrations, clit hardening as Liara took it firmly between her lips and coaxed a drawn out moan. Liara then settled into a slow rhythm, her tongue lavishing attention on her bondmate's increasingly swollen sex. She enjoyed the small ways in which Shepard began to respond. Hips thrusting up to meet Liara's tongue. Hands searching out her crests, cupping and stroking, urging Liara on with gentle but insistent touches. And the tired but urgent sounds Shepard made. Deep breaths punctuated by small gasps, broken every now and then with a murmured endearment or a hissed expletive – especially when Liara thrust her tongue as deeply as she could into Shepard's waiting cunt. Liara then placed both hands on Shepard's hips so she could fully enjoy the feel of smooth skin moving beneath her palms – hot, with just a hint of sweat. Shepard was close. Liara didn't tease. Instead she made each stroke of her tongue firm and precise. Liara still managed to savour everything – the taste of her bondmate on her lips, the increasingly desperate sounds Shepard made, but this time it was all about the release.

When Shepard came, Liara couldn't contain the murmur of pleasure that escaped her own lips, even occupied as they were. At another time she would have drawn everything out, taking her bondmate to the brink and beyond, but tonight she lingered only long enough to deposit a kiss atop Shepard's quivering sex. Liara then crawled upwards, gratefully collapsing into the warmth offered by pressing her body the length of Shepard's. She didn't bother with the covers, simply wrapping one leg and one arm around Shepard, drawing her as close as she could.

"You didn't need to-" Shepard started to murmur.

"Shut up, Evan." This time it was said in the barest of whispers.

From there Liara listened contentedly to the sound of Shepard breathing. Rapidly at first, then quickly tapering off to even, satisfied breaths. They became shallower until eventually being replaced altogether by the gentle sound of snores.

 


	34. Noodles with a View

**London, Earth**

Sweat trickled down the back of Lucy Park's neck, but her body's reaction had little to do with the heat. She was nervous and more than a little terrified. It was the dead of night…or very early morning. Whichever way she chose to look at it, it was past curfew and her bedtime. Not to mention the fact that they – herself, Susannah, and Anderson – were in a part of London that had yet to be rebuilt after the war. Destruction and despair lingered amid the ruins. It served as a reminder of what had almost become of their entire civilisation. The clogged streets and shells of buildings offered shelter from Alliance patrols, but also shadows to hide society's unwanted remnants. The elements of humanity that were only ever a moment from being swept away in the face of progress.

"Luce, stop looking as though you're about to pee your pants," Susannah said quietly.

It was the worst thing Susannah could have chosen to say. It made Lucy realise that she did need the bathroom. She delivered a baleful stare in her wife's direction that illustrated exactly how unimpressed she was. Then Susannah flashed a quick grin - she'd only been trying to put Lucy at ease. Lucy tried to relax in response. It wasn't as though this was her first dog and pony show. Anderson had lugged her sorry, wounded butt through enemy lines during the war. Of course that was surpassed by the time she'd clung to the side of the Crucible before being plucked to safety by one of the _Normandy's_ shuttles.

Lucy glanced across to Anderson. The former Admiral had almost completely melded into the shadows on the opposite side of the alley. Although barely two weeks had passed since he'd been wounded evading Alliance pursuers, he had kept up with her and Susannah easily all evening. Instead Lucy was the one who had struggled the most. She knew she didn't need to be there – standing in the dark, scared. Susannah could have accompanied Anderson. However the thought of her wife making her way home alone was more than enough reason for Lucy to be pleased she'd tagged along. Plus it was a little bit exciting.

The dull glow of Susannah's omni-tool briefly lit both their faces.

"Our contact’s ten minutes late. Do you think we should abort, sir?" Susannah still deferred to Anderson even though they'd both been discharged from the SA. Anderson under a cloud of suspicion and treachery, Susannah due to the injuries she'd suffered during the war.

"He'll be here. If Hannah Shepard vouches for him, then he'll be here," Anderson replied staunchly.

Lucy shared a brief look with Susannah even though they could barely see one another. Both were thinking the same thing. They were placing a hell of a lot of trust in people they'd never met.

Rumbling in the distance suddenly seized Lucy's attention. Night patrol. Susannah gave her hand a brief squeeze. This offered a measure of comfort, but Lucy needed to check the weight of the pistol tucked inside her jacket. Anderson didn't move a muscle.

Lucy regretted that the ex-Admiral had to leave them at all. She genuinely enjoyed his company. Over the past weeks, they had reminisced about their time spent together during the war. For once it had been Lucy's turn to regale Susannah with war stories that seemed too far-fetched to be real. _And here you are, lurking in an alley with a wanted fugitive, waiting for a total stranger who may or may not show up_. Lucy was unsure which she needed most – the toilet or some of Nick Traynor's homemade gin.

A sudden rasping sound near their feet caused both her and Susannah to jump, simultaneously drawing their weapons. Even Anderson reacted – although in his case he moved forward, towards the sound.

"Sir!" Susannah hissed a warning.

"It's okay. It's our man." As though he hadn't recently been shot, Anderson began pulling at the stubborn manhole cover until it rolled aside completely.

From below, a pair of shining white teeth gleamed in the darkness. "Evening all. Nice night to be out?" came the cheery whisper.

Susannah tucked away her pistol, reaching out to help a lanky and very dirty man out of the hole.

"Mack I presume?" Anderson asked.

The two shook hands warmly. "None other." 'Mack' turned towards Lucy and Susannah. "Pericles Macklin. It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"Where are you taking Anderson, Mr Macklin?" Susannah asked bluntly, eyeing up Mack's outstretched hand as though it concealed a weapon. "And who exactly do you work for?"

"Ah, one young lady not easily impressed by my charm," Mack replied. Lucy tried to place his accent. She guessed that he was Australian. "I'm escorting Anderson to a safe location, and as to whom I work for, I work for myself. Although I do take orders from time to time from Hannah Shepard…and another interested party."

"That tells me absolutely nothing," Susannah replied irritably.

"The less you know, the better." Mack shook his head, indicating that his lips were sealed.

"Well, we want in," Susannah announced suddenly. "The resistance, whatever you're calling it. Lucy and I want in."

"We do?" Lucy couldn't conceal her surprise. Susannah elbowed her. "Oh right, we do."

"You've both already done more than enough," Anderson joined in. "You're exactly where you need to be – offering a safe house, protecting those around you. The time may come when we do need you for something else, but until then this part of the fight isn't yours."

_Good!_ Lucy wanted to blurt out. However beside her, she could feel the tension radiating from her wife. Lucy knew that Susannah would be offended by a perceived slight against her capabilities. Susannah desperately wanted to be a part of something, even after she had turned down the desk job she'd been offered by the Alliance. Lucy had seen the pained expressions that crossed Susannah's face. It wasn't often, and never when Susannah knew she was looking, but it was there. She'd spent enough time staring at her wife's body - touching her, making love to her – to know the extent of the burns that ravaged much of her torso, arms and legs. Susannah went to great lengths to act as though her injuries didn't trouble her, but Lucy knew otherwise.

"Babe, Anderson and Mr Macklin need to be on their way," Lucy insisted quietly. "We've all lingered too long already."

"Thank you both," Anderson said with absolute sincerity. "We are going to need both of you in the coming months…and years, promise me you'll stay safe until we need you again? Keep a low profile, behave yourselves."

Lucy and Susannah nodded in affirmation before sharing brief hugs and even briefer goodbyes with Anderson and the still cheerful Mack. The two men then departed via their unglamorous escape route. Judging by the state of Mack's clothes, they were in for a hard slog.

With the sounds made by Anderson and Mack growing fainter by the second, Lucy helped Susannah to replace the manhole cover.

"I'm in trouble aren't I?" Susannah asked quietly.

"It would have been nice if you'd discussed the whole 'we want in' deal with me," Lucy shot back.

"This isn't the best time for an argument," Susannah pointed out. They both tensed as the manhole cover fell back into place with an audible crunch.

"I don't want an argument at all," Lucy pleaded. "I just want to remind you that I'm here for you. I know it's frustrating-"

"It's not frustrating, Luce," Susannah interrupted. "It killed me the day they clipped my wings. To be told that I can never fly again even though I know I can still do it."

"You never said…"

"It didn't need to be said," Susannah replied. Her voice carried no anger, only sadness. "Let's get the fuck out of here. I really need to pee."

With all the tension, Lucy had forgotten her own need for the bathroom. With the reminder, the urge returned tenfold. However, she remained silent, doing her best to follow Susannah as quietly and as quickly as possible. Silently she resented the fact that she was supposed to be a mind-reader and she was devastated that she couldn't help her wife. Lucy tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, willing that Anderson reached his destination safely.

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

_I look like an idiot._

Myke's crisis of confidence came at an inopportune time. She'd already jabbed her finger on the buzzer. The door was about to open and she was having doubts about her outfit. Prior to meeting Shepard, she'd always dressed in the same battered, ill-fitting commando leathers. She'd gladly exchanged them when Shepard arrived - emulating her hero by wearing the same casual cargos and hoodies. Myke couldn't pull off Shepard's effortless cool - managing to look more like someone who was skipping school as opposed to someone who meant business. Hence the new threads. However, Myke wondered if she'd gone one step too far with the crisp new leather pants and jacket. The outfit had cost a week's pay, was dreadfully uncomfortable, and creaked when she walked. The aim had been to look a little more grown-up, but Myke felt like a fraud.

The door opened. Shepard was wearing the same clothes she'd worn the day before. "Hey, Shepard." _Please don't say anything about the stupid outfit._

"Hey yourself," Shepard replied. "I wasn't expecting to see you this morning. Let me guess, you're out of food at your place?"

"Oh…yeah, I am. Thanks for reminding me." _Just stroll in, looking completely normal_. Nor did Myke need a second invitation to help herself to whatever was in Shepard and Liara's food cupboard. Plus, rummaging around in the cupboard gave her additional time to compose herself. "You got any more of those little pastry things? The ones with the chocolate inside?"

Shepard sighed. Possibly out of exasperation. She opened a cupboard, drew out a box and set it on the counter.

Myke's eyes lit up. Jackpot. The pastries were meant to be heated, but she grabbed one out and started eating it to tide her over while she popped two more in to toast.

"Those things are really bad for you," Shepard warned.

Myke scowled as she chewed. "Then why do you have them? You don't even like chocolate."

Shepard shrugged. "Nope, but Liara does."

"This is Liara's personal stash?" Myke asked in horror. A lump of food sat like a stone in her mouth.

"Yep." Shepard retrieved a bottle of juice from the fridge. "But they're already toasting, so you might as well eat them now."

The toaster pinged happily. Myke caught the delicious scent and her concerns of being trussed up in a singularity vanished. She resumed chewing. "While you're there, can you pass me some of that juice?"

"You know," Shepard growled as she took out two glasses. "This isn't how the whole employee – employer relationship is supposed to work. I give you a job, you do stuff for me."

Myke was only half listening as she juggled one of the burning hot pastries in her hand whilst trying to blow on it. "Why? Do you have something you need me to do?"

"You can start by telling me what you're doing."

"Having breakfast," Myke replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. She took a bite of the deliciously crisp pastry. It burnt the roof of her mouth, but she didn't care. "And we've got that meeting to go to. The briefing thing? Since Liara will probably have us sitting there all day, I thought I'd need a decent breakfast." Myke resumed eating with forced concentration.

"Myke…you weren't…You really don't need to be there," Shepard said eventually.

"You need me there!" Myke protested, paying full attention for the first time. "You trust me. I know I don't exactly have a great deal of skills in…well, anything really, but I'm a great listener."

"You're a terrible listener," Shepard pointed out bluntly.

"Okay, maybe I am. But I promise I will sit in a corner and not say a single word." _This is not going well._ Myke tried a different approach, preying on Shepard's bleeding heart. "Fine, if you don't trust me enough to be there, then that's the way it is."

Shepard sighed and Myke almost grinned. It was just too easy. "I would've asked you," Shepard admitted. "But…honestly…Aria is going to be there, and I know how you feel about her."

A chill gripped Myke's entire body. All her careful planning was about to be undone by the individual she hated more than any other. _Aria fucking T'Loak._ Myke wanted to ask Shepard why Aria even needed to be there in the first place, but even she knew that virtually owning an entire space station gave you a hell of a lot of leverage – even with Shepard and Liara.

Myke squared her shoulders. "I'm coming, regardless of whether that bitch is there."

"Fine, I guess it's settled then." Shepard shrugged as though she really didn't mind. "Why are you so eager to come anyway? You do realise that it'll just be a bunch of people sitting around talking?"

"A bunch of people talking about a runaway Reaper," Myke pointed out. Mission accomplished, she resumed eating. "Kind of a big deal. Besides, I'm part of your crew on Omega. I should be there for…moral support or whatever." There was more to it than that. Myke wasn't willing to admit it to Shepard, or perhaps it wasn't even necessary, but she really enjoyed the fact that she was part of something. After years of running around by herself, ignored by virtually everyone, it was a relief to be welcome somewhere.

_Even if I can't do a bloody thing other than sit down and shut up._

Myke was immensely pleased with herself. Now the task at hand was uncovering more information about Samantha Traynor without Shepard realising. So far, all Myke knew was that the human she'd bumped into was hot. While that was a good start, Myke needed more, if only to satiate her curiosity. _And she's Normandy crew, which means she'll be leaving as soon as her ship is patched up._ Myke decided that she would ignore that minor technicality for the time being.

"What the hell has gotten into you, Kasos?" Shepard interrupted Myke's thoughts. "You've got this spaced out expression on your face…or more spaced out than usual. Something's up. What is it? Have Aria's people been hassling you again?"

Myke shook her head quickly. "No, nothing like that. With the _Normandy_ arriving it all feels as though things are about to happen. That I'm a part of something really big. I've never had that before. The fact that you trust me enough, it's pretty fucking fantastic." Despite the fact that she was actually trying to get Shepard to stop asking questions, Myke meant every word. For the time being, she forgot about her personal interests and appreciated everything that was going on around her. Myke wanted to attract Samantha Traynor's interest, but a part of her wanted to matter even more.

"Of course I trust you," Shepard replied. "I didn't thank you for the other day, for being with me when the _Normandy_ arrived. It's been a difficult few weeks, but I feel better knowing you've got my back."

"I'll always have your back, Shepard." Myke beamed before stuffing her mouth full.

"Nice outfit by the way," Shepard said casually. "Suits you."

* * *

 

Myke's tour of the _Normandy_ a few days earlier had been necessarily brief, yet she had seen enough to be excited beyond belief. Now, almost unbelievably, she was being allowed on-board for a second time. Her entire body thrummed with excitement. Beside her, Shepard wore her hood up again, pulled down low over her face. Liara and Samara walked ahead. The justicar had made her disapproval regarding Myke's involvement clear, but Shepard had overruled her – much to Myke's barely concealed delight.

"I don't need to remind you of your job, Myke?" Shepard asked as they entered a lounge area.

"Nope. Sit down, shut up, and listen," Myke replied promptly. She wasn't about to have the opportunity snatched away from her. Not to mention the chance to see Samantha Traynor again. "Although…"

Myke withered slightly beneath the glare Samara gave her. She tilted her chin defiantly. The justicar may have been in charge during their training sessions, but that didn't mean that every part of Myke's life was dictated by the stupid code. Her fears were unfounded. Despite the relatively solemn occasion, Shepard responded with an indulgent smile. Even though it was no longer her ship, it was clear that Shepard enjoyed showing off the _Normandy_.

"I really want to say hello to the VI. What did you call it?" Myke asked tentatively.

"Her name is EDI, and she's not a VI. She's a fully self-aware AI…a little too self-aware if you ask me."

_{I will ignore that comment, Shepard,}_ EDI replied in an almost piqued voice. _{However I am willing to indulge the request of your unidentified companion and engage in a greeting. I have already flagged her as a category three security risk.}_

"I'm not a security risk!" Myke protested. "Please don't blast me into pieces."

_{With the loss of my mobile platform, I am no longer capable of aggression against an individual,}_ EDI attempted to reassure Myke.

"Okay…" Myke responded slowly. She didn't understand what the AI was saying, but it sounded as though she wasn't in immediate danger. "Eeedee, I'm Mycea Kasos, resident of Omega and Shepard's second-in-command….oh, and I'm her friend too so you should probably keep being nice to me…please."

_{I am pleased to meet you, Mycea Kasos. Does your employment entail ensuring Shepard's security?}_

"Not exactly…" Myke fumbled for the words.

"It entails eating my food," Shepard replied on Myke's behalf. "And generally being a loyal friend."

Just as Myke was about to explain the actual work that she did, their conversation with EDI was interrupted by the appearance of another human. Myke was immediately fascinated. She hadn't known that humans could grow purple hair. As Shepard greeted her, Myke realised with a growing sense of awe that it was Ashley Williams, the current Captain of the _Normandy_ and Council SpecTRe. Williams wasn't quite what Myke had been expecting. Clearly still recovering from the mission, she was quiet and unsteady on her feet. While Myke waited eagerly for an introduction, another hooded figure swept into the room. Upon recognising Aria T'Loak, Myke instinctively shrank into a corner and wordlessly took a seat. Despite the attempt to make herself invisible, Aria still noticed her. However the gaze was fleeting, as though Myke wasn't worth her sire's time.

From that point the room quickly felt full and almost claustrophobic. A strange alien walked in and immediately acted as though he owned the room. Myke didn't recognise his race, even as she watched Shepard greet him like a friend. Samantha Traynor arrived last, slipping into the room as though it was the last place she wanted to be. For a brief moment it appeared as though Sam was gravitating towards Myke, then Liara took her arm and steered her to a prominent place in the centre of the room. Much to Myke's disgust, Samara sat down next to her instead.

It soon became clear why Sam was needed at the centre of the room. As Myke listened to the story unfolding from Samantha's lips, her mouth fell open in awe. Actually boarding the Reaper? And shooting dead a Krogan merc? However the imaginary fist pump in Myke's head fell flat when she recognised the catch in Sam's voice for what it was. As the young human struggled to control her emotions, Myke felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness. She bristled, resenting the fact that Liara was forcing Sam to recount the story in front of so many people.

Myke did feel slightly better for knowing most of those sitting in the room – even if one of them was her father. Aria was currently doing her best to take up more seating space than she needed. Her arms were stretched out in a predatory fashion. She smirked as though everyone else in the room was beneath her. Myke scowled, but looked away in a panic when Aria caught her gaze. It was at that point Myke noticed a fifth asari in the room. Another maiden. Strangely enough, this asari was wearing an Alliance uniform. From the manner in which she sat – like a coiled spring, ready to leap – Myke could tell that she was a commando. Unlike everyone else in the room, the commando appeared to have little interest in the proceedings. Instead Myke watched the maiden cast discreet glances in the direction of Ashley Williams. The present captain of the _Normandy_ had also remained quiet, eyes downcast throughout the meeting. All save for one fleeting glance towards the commando. Myke was hardly an expert when it came to such matters, but even she knew enough to recognise a pair of lovers…or would be lovers.

Samantha Traynor was now being bombarded with questions from all angles. Aria questioned her credibility, which both Shepard and Liara quickly quashed. Although Myke barely knew Sam, she still felt a sense of pride in the manner which Sam answered everything. Patient. Calm, despite the fact that she was clearly awkward at being the centre of attention. _You've asked enough questions, now leave her alone,_ Myke thought. Unable to voice such an opinion aloud, Myke had to settle for muttering under her breath. At least until she earned an elbow from Samara – who probably thought she was bored.

The meeting had already lasted for almost two hours. Myke had long since lost track of the discussions flying around the room. Although everyone agreed that they needed to find the Reaper, exactly how they would accomplish this and who would do the finding remained up for debate. For a brief, heady moment, Myke imagined leaving on the _Normandy_ with its intrepid crew. Setting out into the unknown. It would have been something new. Exciting. Then Myke reminded herself that being aboard a warship was probably quite dangerous, possibly getting shot at on a regular basis. And the food was probably crap.

"As soon as repairs are complete, the _Normandy_ is going back to Sol," Ashley Williams said in a tired voice. There were people in the room that had expected _Normandy's_ captain to take the lead. She obviously wasn't interested. "We've already been absent for too long. Unlike the rest of you, I have duties, obligations."

"We know, Ash," Shepard replied patiently. "No one's asking you to go back out there looking for this Catalyst."

Myke still didn't fully grasp what a Catalyst was. She'd immediately noticed the matching expressions of shock on Shepard and Liara's faces when it was mentioned. Then Shepard had started behaving slightly oddly – staring at her artificial hand and absently stroking it with the other. She made a mental note to ask her friend about it later.

"We _were_ asking," Aria added. "But little soldier girl doesn't have the quad to tell her people to shove 'duty' up their asses. Meanwhile I've got the resources to tear this System apart but no one's asking me."

"You would seek out this creature for your own gain, mercenary."

It was the exact thought Myke was thinking, but it had been given voice by the alien, Javik. Myke hated looking at him. He gave her the creeps. However that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate him standing up to Aria.

Aria sneered in response. "Fuck off, relic."

The Queen of Omega rose to her feet. Flared blue. Javik responded. Green tendrils of dark energy wrapped around his body.

"I happen to be very civic-minded," Aria continued in an acerbic tone. "If this Catalyst finds me a more attractive prospect than a backwater Krogan clan, then it's a good thing as far as I'm concerned. For one, I'm not on some fucking ridiculous crusade to take over the Galaxy…this System would be more than enough."

"You already control most of this System, Aria," Shepard pointed out as she stood – immediately commanding the centre of the room with her presence. "Javik, stand down. I'm not going to let either of you tear the _Normandy_ apart. You're both guests here and you will act as such."

Myke was mostly relieved. Slightly disappointed. She would have liked to have seen whether the creepy alien could have kicked Aria's ass. _And you'd be in the cross fire, you dumb pyjak._

The continuing debate lasted long enough for Myke to lose all track of the time…again. Shepard seemed content to sit and fade into the background while Liara took over discussions in a practiced, almost scary, manner. As though it was something she was used to. Aria eventually grudgingly agreed that her people would coordinate with Liara's. _Liara has people?_ Myke thought. She appraised the other maiden, watching, trying to learn from her as Liara sat calmly and actually managed to dictate terms to the Queen of Omega. In that moment, Myke was exceptionally fond of Liara. Myke beamed inwardly as she watched Aria actually show visible signs of annoyance. And she made another mental note, this time one to replace Liara's pastries.

The conversation had not quite drawn to a close when Ashley Williams suddenly rose to her feet. The movement surprised Myke because _Normandy's_ Captain had continued to remain silent, contributing little, and appearing to be distracted by her thoughts. Without a word, Ashley then slipped out of the room. Shepard stood immediately in response but was headed off by the young commando - Kurin. It was Kurin who then went after Ashley, piquing Myke's chronic curiosity.

Everything ground slowly to a halt from that point. Myke's stomach rumbled. Liara mercifully announced that they would adjourn. _Who the hell says 'adjourn' anyway?_ Myke thought. Her fondness for Liara was already short-lived and her attention was moving elsewhere. She immediately sought out Sam. The human had offered little other than answering questions directed at her, but once, just once, she had looked up and met Myke's gaze. It was all the encouragement Myke needed. She rose quickly, heart hammering, only to have her path blocked by Aria.

Her sire was wearing a predictable scowl. "You're letting the justicar sink her claws into you," Aria accused with a pointed glance across at Samara.

The innuendo behind the accusation made Myke slightly ill. Samara stood, moving gracefully between Myke and Aria.

"I am merely imparting some much-needed training and advice," Samara offered. "Something Mycea has sorely lacked during her formative years."

"She doesn't need any of your code bullshit. She's safe enough," Aria growled in response.

Samara remained emotionless. "Do you claim to know what she needs? Have you asked her? She needs companions, a purpose. You may have given her life, but you have given her little else other than a focus for hatred."

In that moment, as Aria's colour deepened, Myke could have hugged Samara. Aria appeared moments away from losing her temper, before she cast the briefest glance towards Myke. The expression that crossed Aria's face was confusing, and left Myke torn between fear and something else. Hope? However her attention had been diverted from her real focus. Samantha Traynor had slipped from the room. With a muttered curse in the direction of her sire, Myke moved past the two older asari, in search of Sam.

Thankfully the young human was easy to find. Sam was in the mess, drinking a glass of water in deep, grateful gulps. Some of it dribbled from her lips adorably when she noticed Myke.

"Hey." Myke hoped the simple greeting didn't sound as nervous as she felt.

"Oh…Mycea, right?"

Myke nodded. Sam's voice was so distinct. In a way it reminded her of Liara's. The same soft, calm tones, but with far more warmth to it. She stared transfixed for a moment, then realised that Sam was expecting her to continue the conversation.

"Um, so, you did really well in there. If it was me speaking, I'd have ballsed it up completely…especially in front of that group."

"Thank you," Sam replied. Myke didn't miss the fact that her lips were glistening slightly with moisture. "My hands were all sweaty. Plus I skipped breakfast, so my stomach was rumbling the whole time."

"You skipped a meal?" Myke viewed this as a tragedy of epic proportions. Her mind worked. An idea formed. However, the actual verbal execution of the idea proved difficult. It was her turn to have sweaty palms. "Do they let you off the _Normandy_? I mean they must. Otherwise you'd go crazy or something. Not that you're capable of going crazy…" Myke stopped, drew in a breath. "Would you like to grab food somewhere? With me?"

An awkward silence followed. Myke could almost see Samantha's thoughts. The obvious indecision and painful hesitation. Myke felt her entire body deflate. _She's trying to come up with an excuse. It was stupid to ask in the first place_ …

"Sure."

When it finally did come, the rapid answer took Myke by surprise. "What? You will? Brilliant." _Not so enthusiastic, Kasos_. "I know a great noodle place. And you're the tourist so I'm paying."

"Omega has tourists?" Sam asked casually. She washed her glass. A small smile had finally appeared on her face as the earlier tension disappeared.

"Of course it does. Although they're usually the kind that want to disappear rather than sun themselves on a beach."

"A beach." Sam sighed wistfully. "I haven't been to a beach for…well, years I suppose."

"I've never been," Myke admitted. She'd never left Omega, and the barren rock was a little short of beaches…or anywhere particularly scenic. "Is it true that the ground is covered in sand?" Myke had watched _Asari Confessions 9: Blue on the Beach_ , but she couldn't imagine how it would feel against her skin. "What does it feel like on your-" She stopped herself before she said 'ass.' "-feet?"

Sam laughed politely. "Are you going to keep asking questions all through lunch?"

"I'm talking too much?" Myke could have slapped herself over the head.

"No, you're not. And even if you were, I wouldn't want you to stop." Sam shook her head. "It's nice."

_Nice? I can start from there_. At that point in time, Myke was so happy that she could have started from anywhere.

* * *

 

Kurin had never been invited up to Ashley's quarters on the _Normandy_. It was the one last place of refuge the human soldier had managed to maintain for herself. There was some element of guilt as she entered. It felt as though she was stripping away one last layer of protection. This feeling vanished almost as soon as it arose, replaced by a sense of urgency. There were things that needed to be said, and Kurin no longer cared whether it was selfish to give voice to them.

The cabin was not what Kurin had expected. While it was spacious enough, the décor was reserved and overly functional. Compared to the captain's quarters on an asari vessel, it was almost sterile. Kurin invited herself to take a quick glance around. A display case filled with tiny little model ships didn't fit with the Ashley she knew. The rack of weapons however, most certainly did.

Ashley was lying on the bed, heedless of her boots on the covers. Her eyes were closed, fingers pressed against her temples. Despite the circumstances, Kurin's body responded with an odd flutter in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't lust – perhaps just a little – but it was a definite desire to hold the human and offer what comfort she could. Although she desperately wanted to act on this impulse, Kurin chose to sit on the low sofa to maintain an adequate distance.

"Are you alright?" Ashley asked the question without opening her eyes.

The question had been on Kurin's lips, but she hadn't asked it. "You're asking me? I'm not the one that looks like I've been regurgitated by a Sleag."

"What's a Sleag?"

"Oh." Kurin felt foolish for some reason. "Colossal sea creature. Native to the deep oceans of Thessia, they regurgitate their prey to feed to their young…and I'm sure you don't give a fuck."

Ashley shrugged. "Trivia is always useful. You never know when you're going to get asked to be on a quiz team."

"At least your rotten sense of humour has returned," Kurin pointed out. "Is everything else okay?"

"I asked you first," Ashley reminded her.

Kurin bit her lip. The human was insufferable. Why in Athame's name would she not be fine? Unlike others, Ashley especially, she'd escaped virtually unscathed from Gurkan. There was barely a mark on her. She almost felt guilty for not having visible wounds. Instead Kurin felt as though she should be marked with something raw and painful. Something to explain why she felt like an emotional mess. To explain why it was so difficult for her to be in Ashley's presence. Even though Ashley's eyes were still closed, Kurin looked away. She couldn't look at the human. Not with what she needed to say.

"I'm…not alright." Kurin had to force the admission through gritted teeth. It was the last conversation she wanted to have. It was also the only one she wanted to have. "I owe you an apology, Captain Williams."

"We all went a little bit crazy on Gurkan, Kurin." Ashley's reply was irritatingly calm, impossible to read into.

It required an immense effort on Kurin's part just to look at Ashley. _Goddess, please let her eyes be closed_. They weren't. The human was staring straight at her, expression just as unreadable as her voice. Kurin resented the fact that the whole thing had to be so difficult.

"No. It started before Gurkan. Even before I met you. Whilst listening to Commander Javik describe you. I had this sick urge to toy with you, to try and unravel you in any way I possibly could. Call it a stupid game, a maiden's foolishness." Kurin felt like a complete fool in that moment. "At first it was purely for entertainment. Even the kiss on Erinle. Then everything changed on that Goddess-damned rock." Kurin paused. If only Ashley's expression would change. Anger, disgust or pity, Kurin didn't care. "Prior to the _Pserimos_ , the only command I had to my name was garrison duty on Thessia during the war. Now I'm one of the youngest frigate Captains in the fleet. I know…and everyone else knows, that my family name was the reason for my being given command. That meant I couldn't fail…I refused to fail, even if that meant sacrificing myself. When you wouldn't let me…then everything changed."

"Commando training or not, I wasn't going to abandon you to Mrath," Ashley said. Her voice remained infuriatingly calm.

"The truth is…our training is long and gruelling. It's tough, and sometimes cruel, but at no point do they train us for…that." Kurin shuddered involuntarily _. Get a grip_. "I flirt. I like to pretend I'm experienced, but the truth is I've never been in love…" _Fuck it_. "At least, not until now."

There was an awful, lingering silence in the wake of her admission. Kurin sat, poised on the edge of her seat. More than ready to flee. Ashley finally reacted. The human sat forward, suddenly seeming more alive than she had done in days. The air between them hummed with electricity. Kurin instinctively knew that if she was able to close the distance between them, close enough to bring their lips together, then everything would play out exactly as she had dreamed. She stubbornly remained seated, fists clenched on her knees. Seconds later, the moment passed.

"Tasha," Ashley whispered in a broken voice.

Kurin already knew what was coming. She couldn't meet Ashley's gaze, especially as her eyes burned shamefully.

"Dammit. I can't be what you need. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to you…but I love Miranda. This isn't going to happen…or at least it's not going to go any further than it already has."

Kurin remained sitting completely still in the aftermath of Ashley's rejection. It hurt. By the Goddess it hurt. Worse than being shot, or even – Goddess damn her – the darkest days of the war when most of her unit lay dead in the ruins. Kurin uttered a ragged sigh. She managed to bring herself under control, at least enough to glance up and look at Ashley. The human soldier wore an expression Kurin judged to be similar to her own – one of anguish. However, Ashley's expression was also tinged with something else.

Sympathy.

_That's because you're pathetic_ , Kurin reminded herself. _Millions died, you lived. And for what? So you could fall apart the moment a pretty human turns you down?_

There was nothing more she could say without making a fool of herself. Kurin knew she had to leave. As she stood, a framed image next to Ashley's bed caught her eye. Something compelled her to take a few steps towards the picture. She needed to see for herself. The face of a human female came into view. Alabaster skin, brilliant grey eyes – stunning, practically flawless. Kurin couldn't suppress the urge to burst into self-deprecating laughter.

There was absolutely nothing ugly about Miranda Lawson.

The laugh died abruptly on her lips. Ashley was no doubt staring at her as though she'd lost her mind. Kurin turned away, turned her back on the picture. She wanted to stay. She needed to remain in Ashley's space. Perhaps there was something she could say to convince Ashley that this was meant to be. _No_ , Kurin told herself firmly. _You need to leave while you still possess some shred of dignity_.

"I'm not going to avoid you," Ashley suddenly said. Her voice was quiet, but intense. "Don't be a stranger."

Kurin smirked. "No chance of that."

A few moments later, with two closed doors safely between them, the young commando even managed to feel slightly smug about the manner in which she had remained poised and composed. As the elevator moved downward, Kurin had every intention of walking out confidently with her back straight and the smirk still on her face.

_This isn't going to happen._

The memory extinguished her intentions like a fist clamped over a candle flame. Kurin sagged against the wall. The breath she had been holding for too long finally emerged as a drawn out shudder. The exhalation weakened her last measure of self-control. The dreaded tears fell and she allowed herself a few, deep sobs before she angrily scrubbed at her face and eyes in an attempt to excise the evidence.

Kurin's eyes felt puffy and her cheeks damp as the doors opened. In her haste to find somewhere private, she collided with another asari entering the elevator. With the impact, she instinctively grasped the asari's forearms to keep from stumbling. Upon glancing up, Kurin expected to see one of her commandos, instead she met the distinctive gaze of Aria T'Loak. Kurin froze. She stared stupidly, expecting…well, she didn't know what to expect. It certainly wasn't the sudden, intense rush that enveloped her entire body. In the moment that she started trembling, Kurin wrenched free of Aria's burning grasp.

"My apologies." Kurin refused to lower her gaze lest the action be interpreted as a form of deference. She was asari nobility. Aria T'Loak was nothing but a common criminal. However her resolve meant that she was forced to watch as the older asari studied her – the damp cheeks and puffy eyes. T'Loak's mouth twitched into a sneer…or was it a grin?

Kurin fled without a further word.

* * *

 

It was uncanny how something as simple as a greasy, sloppy box of takeaway food could lift spirits. Sam used her chopsticks to shovel another parcel of food into her mouth. A contented sigh escaped her lips. From her perch, Omega no longer looked like the cesspit of scum and villainy it was. Instead it thrummed with industrious activity, full of life in every corner and crevice – even if that 'life' happened to be rodents scurrying in the refuse. Sam had not expected to find any sort of peace on Omega, but she had to admit that the view wasn't bad. As she ate, Sam discreetly turned her head to watch her companion. Mycea Kasos ate her own meal, lifting each bite to her mouth with great care. The asari's brow was creased in a delightful but inexplicable frown. It was almost as though Mycea was concentrating. For a moment, or two, Sam lost herself in the lines of colour trailing down the side of Mycea's face – the pink standing out brilliantly against dark purple skin. Entrancing and exotic.

_Yes, the view is definitely not bad at all_. Sam returned to her food. They finished their meals in companionable silence.

"Thank you for this," Sam said as she set aside the empty box. Mycea flashed her a quick smile in response. "I was going stir-crazy staying on board the _Normandy_ but Omega isn't exactly a place I wanted to wander around by myself." Sam was sorry that they had finished eating, unsure what that meant she was supposed to do next. "I should go. You've probably got important work to do for Shepard. Instead you're babysitting me."

"No!" Mycea replied, almost abruptly. She winced as though realising just how quickly she had responded. "I don't have anything better to do…I mean, there's nowhere else I have to be, nowhere I'd rather be than here." The words tumbled out too quickly. "But I'm not babysitting you. You're Shepard's friend. Hopefully that makes you my friend too…or at least gives us the chance to be friends…and I should just shut up now or you really will be leaving."

Sam couldn't contain a small laugh. "To be honest, I could always use another friend. And you come highly recommended."

Myke grinned and ducked her head in embarrassment. "I just kind of threw myself at Shepard, and she was stuck with me." Her cheeks coloured to an even darker shade of purple. "Not throw myself at her like _that,_ I don't think of Shepard in that way…and Liara would murder me several times over if I did. Not that I wouldn't like a human."

As though to firmly shut herself up, Myke scooped up a huge morsel of food and shoved it into her mouth. Silence descended apart from Myke's deliberate chewing. Sam went back to staring at the view with a smile on her face, watching the ships down below engage in their slow dance. Omega felt so far removed from everything she had ever known. Her childhood on Horizon, her Oxford university days, and her career in the Alliance. She reflected on the twists and turns her life had taken of late – far from the research lab in which she had anticipated spending the rest of her career. Not for the first time Sam wondered whether she would have been happier had she never received her assignment to the _Normandy_. Her dreams would certainly have been less troubled. Every night since Gurkan Sam fell exhausted into her rack, hoping that she wouldn't be forced to endure another night punctuated by images of the young Krogan she'd killed. Sam knew she needed to talk to someone about it, but everyone's problems seemed far weightier than her own.

"You look like you've got a lot on your mind." Myke had finally finished her food.

The asari wore an honest, concerned expression…as well as a dollop of sauce on her chin. Sam had to resist the urge to swipe it away with a gentle touch of her thumb. In general, Sam was surprised at how relaxed she felt around Mycea – especially considering how intimidating she usually found asari.

"It's…nothing," Sam replied quietly. "Just…reflecting."

"It sounded like it was…rough down there," Myke responded. "I didn't know what happened until I heard. At the meeting, because I was there. Shit, you must think I'm insensitive for being there when I didn't need to be."

"I wish I didn't need to be there either," Sam admitted. Life had been much simpler when all she did was man her old comms station. There had been the odd enemy communication to intercept – keeping things exciting – but for the most part it was easy. It was clean. Killing was messy.

"Yeah, it must be annoying to follow orders. I mean, I do what Shep tells me…and occasionally I'll listen to Samara, but mostly I'm my own boss."

"I wasn't following orders when I shot Sarl." Sam hadn't intended to say anything of the sort. It slipped out. She winced when she saw Myke duck her head awkwardly. "Sorry, forget I said anything."

"Isn't that the whole point of being a soldier?" Myke offered tentatively. "You shoot people?"

"I'm not that kind of soldier." _Every marine's a rifleman remember, Sam. It's your job. For that one time at least, you were bloody good at it._

Myke swivelled on her perch until she was fully facing Sam. "I've never shot anyone."

"Try and keep it that way," Sam advised.

"I would though," Myke replied quickly. "If my friends were in danger. I'd do it to save a life. That's what you were doing wasn't it?"

Sam admired the asari's candour, but she remained pessimistic. "Indirectly…but it doesn't feel like it. It just feels like…I'm a horrible person."

"Hey," Myke said quickly, gently. She was leaning forward now. "You're not a horrible person. I've met horrible people – I'm related to some of the worst – and you're not like them."

Sam laughed sardonically. "It's kind of you to say, Mycea, but you barely know me."

Myke pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well that's shit. Let's fix it?"

"Huh?" Sam stared blankly, trying to ascertain exactly what the asari was asking of her.

"I'm saying I want to get to know you better," Myke explained, almost eagerly. She followed up with a nervous grin. "You can start by calling me Myke, and when I get to know you better, I'll remind you that you're not a horrible person. Deal?"

Sam found it difficult to remain despondent in Myke's presence. Despite everything that had happened, she grinned. With the grin, it felt like a huge weight was lifted from her shoulders. "You've got a deal." She wondered if they now knew each other well enough for her to point something out to her new friend. "Hey…Myke? You've got a tiny bit of sauce, just on…" Sam motioned to her chin.

Clearly mortified, Myke wiped at one side of her chin. She managed to miss the sauce completely. With barely a pause, Sam leaned forward and gently cupped Myke's chin. The touch felt electric. With a gentle swipe of her thumb, she removed the offending dot of sauce. Her touch lingered, just a split second longer than necessary, before she realised what she was doing.

"Got it," Sam offered quietly, letting her hand fall.

The pair of them sat in silence. Eventually Myke looked away, trying to hide a small grin. Sam also went back to staring out at the view. For some reason the colours appeared brighter, more vibrant.

Alive.

 


	35. Letting go of the Shit

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

Karin Chakwas had long since given up being surprised by anything Shepard managed to do. This included coming back from the dead – twice. Upon seeing her former charge alive and well, she had merely remarked 'you look better than I would have expected.' Even if she had been inclined towards overexcitement, Karin doubted that she could have made any sense of the whole scenario. It suited her to simply accept that the Galaxy was once again blessed with the presence of an immensely extraordinary individual – one with the uncanny ability to shape the course of events around her.

However, as she regarded the patient perched on the edge of the bed in front of her, Karin had the distinct impression of a sulky teenager as opposed to a galactic hero. Shepard regarded her with a guarded, wary expression – one habitually worn whilst seeing her in her professional capacity. With an indulgent shake of her head, Karin turned her attention to the test results displayed on her omni-tool.

"Don't keep me waiting, Karin," Shepard broke the silence. Her voice sounded overly casual, in an obvious effort to conceal her anxiety. "What's the verdict?"

Following her reunion with Shepard, Karin had wasted little time before ascertaining the state of the young woman's health. She had gently coerced and dragged out of Shepard what had taken place during the months since the end of the Reaper War - listening patiently, interjecting sympathetically – even stifling her own outrage at times. Once fully informed, Karin had managed to make a convincing case regarding the need for a thorough check-up. Despite an aversion to medical procedures, Shepard had submitted with only a perfunctory protest. Whilst Shepard's lack of knowledge about her own biology was clearly a motivating factor, Karin also hoped it had something to do with her impeccable bedside manner.

"The last time I examined you, I barely needed to run a single test to know that you were literally falling apart. Your body was rejecting the Cerberus tech with life-threatening rapidity, compromising your physical and mental health. Now…" Karin paused. Subconsciously, she shook her head in amazement. "Now…"

"Now what?" Shepard asked, her voice tinged with alarm. "Doc?"

Karin realised that Shepard had construed her hesitation in negatively. She responded with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "For lack of a better word, you're extraordinary, Shepard," Karin replied honestly. She met the young woman's nervous gaze with a direct, honest stare. "To say that you're perfectly healthy is a monumental understatement. Every test that I conducted, the results are flawless, better than that even….just perfect. Even without running further tests, I can conclusively say that the Catalyst has altered your body's chemical make-up…although to what extent that will impact you in the future, I cannot say…without further tests."

"No more tests." Shepard was fiercely adamant. "Please just tell me that you know enough to reassure me that I'm not going to start falling apart?"

"Then I can do that much," Karin assured her with a gentle nod. "You're not going to start falling apart, Shepard. Let me show you something."

Shepard sat with a modicum of patience as Karin summoned a holographic representation of the scans she had run earlier. A disembodied form was suspended between them, an apparent mess of lines that resembled an outline of a human form with the skin stripped away. Fine white lines dominated the image – concentrated in a nest-like fashion around Shepard's heart. Almost immediately, any remaining colour drained from Shepard's face.

"I thought you were trying to make me feel better? Is that supposed to be me…or at least my insides? The only thing that's going to do is make me lose my lunch," Shepard commented.

"It is you…and the quite marvellous technology – if one can even call it that - integrated throughout your body. It no longer seems appropriate to call the Catalyst a foreign entity introduced surgically into your body. It is, for lack of a better description, _you_. The integration is so complete that I can't ascertain the complete extent of its function. Basically, where it stops and you start. One of the few things I can confirm that might make you happy is that all traces of Cerberus tech are gone." When Shepard didn't add any comments, Karin continued, "The existence of these nodules throughout your body, however, cannot be explained. Superficially they resemble eezo nodules, but…while I'm not expert, they're clearly not. What exactly they are, I don't know."

Silence descended over the medbay. Colour had not returned to Shepard's face. Karin bit her lip. She had hoped that a visible demonstration might allay Shepard's fears. It appeared to have had the opposite effect. A part of her feared she had said too much too quickly.

"Great," Shepard eventually spoke up in a hoarse voice. "I'm still a fucking mess."

"On the contrary," Karin hastened to explain. "Your chemical makeup is perfectly stable. Although the unknown quantities exist, they do not pose any apparent risks to your health." Only at that point did she let a reluctant sigh escape. "There is something though…the regenerative potential of your physiology…it goes beyond merely restoring your body after the war. The preliminary data I have been able to gather cannot give any indication of senescence-"

"Senescence? You'll have to explain that for the dumb grunt, doc," Shepard interrupted.

"Ageing. The human ageing process. Shepard…I can conclusively say that your natural lifespan will be longer than that of any human – Miranda Lawson included."

Shepard blinked in disbelief. "Doc…Karin – how long exactly? What about an asari lifespan?"

"There is a possibility that you will outlive Liara," Karin said softly. "I wasn't going to mention it…but, in the interests of being completely honest, I owe it to you."

Shepard shook her head. "You don't owe me anything, you've done so much for me already. Thank you though…for all of this." Shepard waved her hand in the direction of the scan. "I guess a part of me worried that I was living on borrowed time. The other extreme isn't exactly what I wanted for myself either, but it's reassuring to know I'm not broken in the way I was. Miranda worked a miracle to bring me back, but I always knew I wasn't built to last – just long enough to get the job done. Now…there's a future."

"It is a future," Karin repeated, somewhat pleased regarding Shepard's optimistic tone. However, as she watched as Shepard pull on her jacket in preparation to leave, she felt a distinct pang of sadness. She acknowledged to herself that her reasons for informing Shepard about her biology hadn't been entirely altruistic. It had stemmed from a desperate need on her part to actually be able to deliver some good news for a change. Shepard was alive and in good health. Karin wanted her to stay that way. "What it is not, is a lifetime warranty. You are still entirely mortal. It is also likely that what the Catalyst did in the wake of London is a onetime only card – which you played. You don't need to play the hero anymore."

"I can't guarantee that, Karin," Shepard replied with a nonchalant shrug. It kind of goes with the territory…but I do promise to be as careful as possible."

Karin resisted the urge to utter a sound of disagreement. The promise wasn't convincing in the slightest. She also dwelt on the one remaining matter that had been weighing heavily on her mind. It had not been relevant to mention it during the War, or even earlier during their fight against the Collectors. Now, with the hope of an actual future, it seemed like the right time.

"One more thing," Karin ventured. "I don't presume to know how much information Miranda shared about the Lazarus project during your early days with Cerberus."

"You knew Miranda back then," Shepard said with a small smile. "She wasn't exactly forthcoming with information. There was crap everywhere when I woke up – lab reports, logs, scans. I didn't have the time or inclination to look at any of it. With sirens blaring and mechs trying to kill you, it's not exactly something you prioritise."

Karin didn't return the smile. "Your reproductive system…it's the one element of your biology that the Catalyst didn't repair."

There was only a momentary pause. Shepard shrugged. "I know I can't have kids. I haven't admitted it to myself until now but, for some reason, I've always known." Shepard knelt down to tug on her boots, but she glanced back up. "You don't have to assume the role of a shrink, Karin. In light of these results, I guess I'm kind of relieved. The last thing I would want is to outlive my own children."

Karin wasn't convinced. Shepard did a terrible job of masking the pain in her voice. However, as the ex-marine rose to her feet, Karin didn't press further. Shepard was right. She wasn't a psychologist.

"I hate to cut this short," Shepard continued.

"No you don't," Karin interjected.

Shepard grinned cheekily. "The social aspect of the visit, certainly not the medical." She then checked the chrono on her omni-tool and her expression became serious. "I'm supposed to be meeting Ash. I'm not sure if it's the right time, or if there's ever a right time, but there are a few things I need to fill her in on."

"Don't let Williams get overly worked up," Karin warned. "Her body is still recovering. Her mind…suffice to say, please keep her as calm as possible."

"I'll take care of her, Karin. I promise." Shepard nodded. "See you soon."

"I look forward to it, Shepard."

Shepard paused by the door. "Even though I'm no longer military, you're still not going to call me by my first name?"

"Old habits die hard," Karin replied.

The truth was, she couldn't think of Shepard as anything but military. Regardless of her actual circumstances, the young woman would always be a marine. Even simply walking out of the medbay, Shepard still carried herself like a marine. The same pride, the same inherent selflessness and devotion to duty.

Karin was left alone in the medbay with only the medical hologram for company. She regarded it pensively. Eventually finding herself marvelling at the form as a piece of biomedical engineering. A perfect symbiosis of human biology and…well, whatever the Catalyst was. The most exciting aspect was that Shepard's potential was almost entirely untapped. If she could just run a few more tests…

She stopped her train of thought abruptly. Karin remembered the visible pain written on Shepard's face when she briefly mentioned that the Alliance had run tests, without even going into any details. Here she was, behaving in much the same manner. Treating Shepard as a test subject as opposed to a friend. Karin stabbed a command on her omni-tool. The holographic image disappeared.

"No more tests, Evan. I promise."

* * *

 

Shepard couldn't help but feel a distinct sense of embarrassment as she ushered Ashley Williams into her home. As her friend seemed to stare at anything and everything, Shepard was forced to admit just how utterly plain and boring it was. Although she and Liara had called it their home for months, little had been changed from the moment they first stepped through the door. Only the general detritus of life - scattered datapads, food boxes, and laundry – suggested that anyone actually lived there.

_Should've kept that painting_ , Shepard thought with a sigh of regret. She'd discovered the piece in Omega's markets during one of her wanderings. Something about the vivid colours had entranced her immediately and compelled her to part with fifty credits. Rather pleased with herself, Shepard had triumphantly carried it home. This pleasure had quickly soured when Liara saw it and promptly threatened to shred it to pieces in the midst of a singularity if it was displayed. The disagreement escalated into an actual argument. Shepard's main point of contention was that she had clear memories of Liara's apartment on Ilium. The prominent display of brutish Prothean artefacts had left little to be desired about her bondmate's taste in décor.

" _They were priceless artefacts!" Liara had pointed out._

" _I would've had nightmares if I tried living with those," Shepard argued. "They belonged in a museum, not someone's home."_

_Liara snorted disdainfully. "You wouldn't know culture if it slapped you in the face. Or anything remotely resembling good taste. The last time you picked a colour scheme, you ended up with red and gold armour!"_

" _You said I looked dashing!"_

" _I was just trying to make you feel better about yourself."_

" _Thanks! And now?"_

" _Now I refuse to humour you – especially if it means displaying that monstrosity in my home."_

The argument had been short-lived, descending into apologetic kisses. However nothing could take away from the fact that they were both being brutally honest. Shepard had only grown to hate Prothean architecture more over the years. If that meant she had no taste, then she was perfectly content.

_I liked that painting_ , she thought with sullen regret. She'd given it to Myke. The young asari had been absolutely ecstatic and had enlisted her help in hanging it immediately. _At least it found a good home._

When Ash eventually stopped looking around and turned to face Shepard, there was no disapproval on her face. Instead, she offered up a small nod. "Love what you've done with the place, Skipper."

It required all a second for Shepard to realise that Ash was not being even slightly sarcastic. In hindsight, it was obvious. Despite their many differences, they were both career soldiers at heart – used to having to contain their lives within a single footlocker. Having so much space was a luxury. Fussing over décor was a frivolity neither of them had ever had time for. Shepard suspected that Ash's taste was just as bad as her own.

"You have to stop calling me Skipper, Ash," Shepard said as they both took a seat. "I don't have a rank anymore, let alone a ship."

"Which also means you can't order me to do shit." Ash snorted disdainfully. She stared at Shepard with a dubious expression on her face. "I suppose you want me to call you by your first name?"

Shepard shrugged. "Would it kill you to call me Evan?"

Ash winced. "It doesn't feel right. Can I stick to Shepard…for now at least?"

Shepard nodded in agreement. She was content to savour the simple pleasure of her friend's company. Despite the magnitude of their experiences and the changes in their lives, it was still almost effortless to be in Ash's company – even an Ash with purple hair and the tail end of a Thresher Maw tattoo visible beneath a rolled-up sleeve.

"Where's Liara?" Ash asked out of courtesy.

"She's still on board the _Normandy_ ," Shepard replied. "I've been on at her lately about working too much. I'm hoping she's holed up in the observation lounge with Joker and Cortez, fleecing them at Skyllian Five…although it's far more likely that she's tinkering with some element of the ship's systems."

Ash shrugged, unconcerned. "EDI certainly isn't going to stop her. The _Normandy_ is still her home. Yours too."

"I'm not so sure about that anymore," Shepard replied. "But it is good to see her again. You too, Ash. You're looking better."

It was true up to a point. Ash's usual healthy complexion had returned. Her cheeks had lost their hollow cast. But, it was Ash's eyes that betrayed the truth. Usually unguarded in expressing her emotions, Ash was obviously hiding something. So much lay behind her gaze that Shepard was almost afraid to pry for fear of what she would uncover.

"I feel like crap," Ash offered up without any further prying. "With this hair and these damn tattoos, I feel like I'm still wearing a costume. Like I can't be me."

As tempting as it was, Shepard had resisted the urge to joke about Ash's tattoos. She was pleased she had. Instead she shifted forward, reached out and laid her hand on Ash's knee. Shepard deliberately chosen to use her left hand. It lay stark and white against the blue of Ash's fatigues.

"We've all been shaped by our experiences, Ash, but it has always been what's inside that counts," Shepard said firmly. "You're Captain Ashley Williams, Alliance Marine Corps, commander of the _Normandy_ , and Council SpecTRe…and my friend."

Ash just shook her head in response. "They're all things that were taken away from you, Skip…Shepard. I should be asking how _you_ are. What the hell happened to you?"

It was the perfect opportunity to spill everything. The reason she had wanted to speak to Ash in the first place. However, as Shepard felt the fear and anxiety radiating from Ash almost to the point of being tangible, she knew she couldn't launch into the whole backstory with the Alliance. Ash wasn't ready. The real trick would be steering the conversation away from any such revelations.

"You're not pulling that whole deflecting crap on me, Williams," Shepard replied, hoping her voice didn't sound as tentative as she felt. _Okay, I'm diving in_. "I've seen you bounce back from injury, eager to get back into action. Now, you look like you need months of R and R. There's more isn't there?"

Ash let out a derisive laugh. "Hell no, Shepard. You've done enough. You've been through enough. There's no way I'm dragging you through anymore of my shit. And besides…it's a personal matter."

"If it's a personal matter then it concerns me all the more," Shepard countered. "I'm your friend, Ash. And I distinctly remember dumping my personal shit on you when you were stuck in a hospital bed in Huerta Memorial, helpless to run away. We've both been through a hell of a lot, dragging each other through our respective shit is the only way we're going to stay sane."

"It's too late for some of us," Ash muttered.

It was only when she saw one corner of Ash's lip curl, that Shepard realised it was meant to be a joke of sorts. Her responding laugh was half-hearted at best. The remark cut too close to the truth, for both of them. She didn't offer a reply or further coaxing. Instead she remained silent, waiting.

Ash shifted, seemingly unable to simply sit back and relax. When she did settle on one posture, it was a classic soldier's pose - leaning forward, feet firmly planted, elbows resting on her knees. However, Ash's gaze wasn't alert. Her eyes were glassy as she stared at the dull, tan coloured carpet. It was the kind of carpet that really didn't warrant that much attention.

Shepard continued to wait patiently. Unlike her friend, she had very recent practice when it came to relaxing. It still didn't come naturally, but she was trying to put Ash at ease. _What's going on, Ash?_ Shepard asked herself, willing Ash to speak, to say anything. A part of her was also afraid of what might be said. _What if I can't help?_

"This is going to sound stupid…" Ash finally offered. "-but do asari have special powers? I mean, some…something that makes them more attractive to other species? Some sort of chemical-" Ash stopped, scrubbed angrily at her temples. "This is stupid…please don't answer-"

"It's out there now, Williams," Shepard interrupted gently. She was confused, but joined in as best she could. "I'm no expert when it comes to asari, I mean, there have been a few-"

"Other than Liara?" Ash asked, surprise clearly evident in her voice.

"Yes," Shepard admitted effortlessly. "I had an extremely misspent youth. There was one time in the back seat of a taxi-" She stopped herself. Winced awkwardly "-that you really don't need to know about. Listen, Ash, as far as I know there's nothing mystical about being attracted to an asari. It's simply an attraction, the same as every other race." Shepard stopped herself again, studied the anguished expression on her friend's face. "Ash…did something happen?"

Ash tilted forward and clasped her head in her hands. "I fucked up, Shepard," she offered in the barest whisper. "Miranda is going to skin me alive…and then break up with me."

"There's no universe in which that would happen, Ash," Shepard attempted to reassure her. "Miranda loves you…unreservedly."

"You can't say that with such certainty, not when it comes to Miranda. You know her as well as I do. She doesn't think about things in shades of grey, it's black or white with her. I'm guilty, regardless of whatever spin you want to put on it."

"Guilty of what?" Shepard asked. "Ash, did something happen with one of the commandos?" A flicker of a memory interrupted her thoughts. The meeting in _Normandy's_ observation lounge. Ash's hasty exit…being followed by Kurin. She'd thought it odd at the time, but had quickly forgotten about it in the face of weightier matters. Now it came back in one startlingly clear picture. "Kurin? Something happened between you and Kurin."

Ash offered up a small nod of confirmation.

Shepard did her best to stifle the resulting gasp. The shock wasn't tempered by the fact that she'd guessed. Dozens of thoughts flitted through her head, all competing for prominence. Ash had never struck her as the sort of individual who would cheat on a lover under any circumstance. _Miranda isn't the forgiving type…Fuck, she is going to skin Ash alive_. Shepard did not give voice to that particular thought.

"Ash…I thought you and Miranda were solid?"

"We were…we _are_!" Ash protested. Too agitated to remain seated, she rose to her feet and starting pacing. "I don't know what the hell happened. Something about being Calisto Callahan…that persona consumed me, turned me into someone else. When Kurin and I kissed the first time it was all part of an act…and the second…but the third time I kissed her of my own free will. It didn't go further than that, and it won't, but for a moment I wanted someone else other than Miranda."

Shepard couldn't deny that Kurin was extremely attractive, but she knew both Ash and Miranda well. They were head over heels for each other. This was just one of those things…those stupid mistakes that people sometimes made in the heat of the moment. The difficulty was that once it was made, it couldn't be undone.

"Shepard, if it was you and Liara we were talking about-" Ash continued "-would you tell her?"

In all honestly, Shepard couldn't bring herself to answer the question. The only time she had ever come remotely close to cheating on Liara, was her relationship with Miranda. Technically, that couldn't even be defined as cheating. However the real crux of the issue was that it had been with Miranda. Regardless of any definition, Shepard didn't think it was a wise topic of conversation. "Ash, if a relationship is going to work you can't keep secrets. Especially not something like this. It's clear that this is going to eat away at you. It already is."

Ash stopped pacing. She remained standing in the centre of the room. Fists clenched firmly at her side. Her shoulders moved up and down with decreasing frequency as she brought her breathing under control. Eventually she turned back to face Shepard. "You're right, as per fucking usual."

"Since when have I always been right?"

"From the moment you saved my sorry ass on Horizon, Skipper."

Shepard let the 'skipper' slide. She rose to her feet to join Ash. "Well I'm not always right, but if it's alright with you, Williams, I'm going to hug you."

The resulting embrace was awkward for a few moments, but Shepard soon felt Ash relax into her. The marine's entire body softened, as though she was finally able to let go of all the tension that she had been carrying around. Shepard squeezed firmly.

"I won't lose Miranda," Ash said, her voice a determined whisper against Shepard's shoulder.

"If I know Miranda, she'll make you work for it, but she'll forgive you eventually," Shepard added. She drew back, looked into Ash's slightly glazed eyes, and smiled. "She loves you."

"Fuck knows why," Ash said with a sniff and a shake of her head. "My only consolation is that Miranda is going to be just as pissed at you when she finds out you're alive."

Shepard winced in response to Ash's statement. Noticeably. Attentive despite the circumstances, Ash uttered a ragged sigh in response. "She already knows doesn't she?"

Any attempt at deceit died before it left Shepard's lips. Instead she merely offered a small nod in response, angry at herself for being unable to maintain a poker face.

"You know, I'm not even surprised," Ash said, seemingly unable to summon any anger in response.

Although Ash still seemed just as tired and withdrawn, Shepard was sure she could recognise a faint glimmer of hope. It wouldn't be easy, nothing ever was, but Shepard hoped that eventually the Ashley she knew would be back in business. Shepard wanted to believe that her concern had been entirely genuine, but she couldn't deny the almost callous undercurrent to her hopes. More than anything, she needed Ash back at her best. There was a storm coming that was almost as dangerous as the Reapers themselves, and even potentially more destructive.

The Reapers had brought the Galaxy together. This was threatening to tear it apart.

Shepard managed a small smile. The Galaxy wasn't in immediate danger of self-combusting. They still had time to find some semblance of normality. "Why don't you take a seat, Ash? Make yourself comfortable. I'm cooking us dinner."

Ash finally laughed. "Please don't."

"Are you trying to say something about my cooking?" Shepard asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's not exactly one of your strong points," Ash admitted readily. "But I'll pretend to like it to say thank you."

* * *

 

With the remnants of her meal with Ash still littering the kitchen surfaces, Shepard stood at the sink. She simply watched as thick, dark liquid oozed out of the upended bottle she held in her hand. The act was both cathartic and painful. She had almost stopped herself twice. On one hand she remembered exactly how difficult it had been to obtain in the first place, on the other she couldn't imagine how she had ever poured the foul smelling stuff down her throat.

" _It's good shit,"_ she remembered saying once to Miranda.

" _We're a few hours away from the Omega relay and you're drinking yourself into a stupor? What is this supposed to be anyway?"_

" _Krogan brandy – well, that's technically not its name, I just made it up. In fact, no one really knows what the hell is in it. Maw piss and battery acid from what I've heard."_

Although it was a bittersweet memory, Shepard smirked. Miranda had never been easily swayed, sensibly refusing to drink. Although mere years earlier, fighting the Collectors felt like a lifetime ago. In many ways, it was. Shepard's life course had taken such a huge swerve, that it was almost unrecognisable. Back then none of them had expected to have a future. Shepard more so than the others simply by virtue of the mantle of leadership. Now she had the prospect of centuries stretching in front of her. It was almost beyond comprehension. She was still lost in thought when she was interrupted unexpectedly.

"What are you doing?"

The bottle slipped from her startled grasp. The heavy object thudded into the sink and made what was obviously the loudest noise possible. With absolutely no chance of concealing what she had been doing, Shepard could only turn to face Liara. She faced down her bondmate's unreadable stare with what she hoped was a suitably apologetic expression on her face.

"Liara…hey." She winced as Liara moved to the sink and peered down at the bottle and the remnants of Krogan brandy in the sink. "Um….I'm not going to lie, it is exactly what it looks like. The bottle was stashed under the sofa for months. I'm sorry."

"Evan, what were you thinking?" Liara demanded.

"It's not like I drank the whole bottle," Shepard protested, somewhat pitifully. "Less than half."

"No, what were you thinking pouring it down our sink?" Liara continued, she leaned forward and turned the tap to full. The water swirled, washing away all traces of the alcohol. "You have no doubt corroded the plumbing, possibly the entire Omegan sewage system."

"You've just found out that I hid a bottle of Krogan brandy from you and all you're worried about is the plumbing?" Shepard asked in disbelief. She watched as Liara's lips curved upwards into a small smile. Realisation hit her. "You're playing me?"

Liara responded with a small nod, before inviting herself into Shepard's arms. On Shepard's part the hug was somewhat reluctant as she tried to read some hidden meaning in her bondmate's reaction. She held Liara at arm's length, suspicious as to whether the disappointment that she had expected would eventuate. It did not. Shepard had to give in to Liara's charms, enfolding her in a proper embrace.

"Although I am curious as to why you chose to hide the bottle," Liara eventually commented.

With Liara's warm breath falling on her neck, Shepard found it difficult to concentrate on anything else. She murmured something that might have been words, but at the same time it was more a general endearment…and possibly an attempt to get out of an explanation.

"Or you could just explain why you chose to pour it out?" Liara asked gently.

Shepard sighed. She drew back so she could hold Liara at arm's length once again. Her bondmate had a patient expression fixed on her face, one Shepard was certain was reserved for her in moments of transgression. "I just came from speaking with Ash," Shepard explained. "Our conversation made me realise that I didn't want to conceal anything from you…even something as seemingly insignificant as a bottle of booze."

"I didn't want to probe, but it seemed as though Ashley had a lot on her mind," Liara agreed.

"Ash is…struggling with something," Shepard admitted. "I didn't even try to bring up Alberta."

"I will not press," Liara said.

Shepard knew her bondmate was one of the most observant individuals she had ever met. It was clear Liara already suspected that something had happened between the marine captain and Kurin, but had decided that it was none of her business.

"I wondered if we might offer Ash the use of your comms to get in touch with Miranda," Shepard suggested.

Liara nodded. "It should not present a problem.

"Thank you. It'll mean the world to Ash," Shepard replied.

Liara deposited a kiss on Shepard's cheek before attempting to extricate herself from the embrace. Shepard immediately recognised that Liara was heading towards work mode, seeking to escape with a minimum of fuss so she could bury herself in the world of the Shadow Broker. Ordinarily Shepard would let her go, but her check-up with Chakwas still weighed heavily on her mind. Sharing the information with Liara was not something that she wanted to be patient about. To prevent Liara escaping, Shepard gently tightened her grip. Liara stopped and turned with a frown on her face.

"I also saw Dr Chakwas this morning," Shepard admitted.

"You went for a check-up? Willingly?" Liara's expression slipped slightly. Concern radiated from her gaze. "Evan…"

"I'm fine, Li…really. I just wanted to tell you everything…but if you need to get back to your work-"

"No, it can wait," Liara assured her. She moved her grip so they were holding hands. "Nothing is more important than this…than us."

Shepard glanced over her shoulder at the mess behind her and the bottle lying in the sink. "Even doing the dishes?"

Liara smiled. "Especially doing the dishes."

 


	36. Double Deluxe with all the Trimmings

**SSV _Tai-Shan_ , Sol System Approach**

With his lips pursed tight in disapproval, Fleet Admiral Kessler read the entirety of the missive in front of him. On the opposite side of the desk, a young Lieutenant was forced to wait at attention. By the time he reached the end, the furrows on Kessler's brow had deepened to impressive crevices. With an angry sigh, he tossed the datapad to his desk. When he looked up at the junior officer, he was not remotely pleased to find a shit-eating grin fixed on the young man's face.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Craig." Kessler felt a headache taking hold – a dull ache at his temples. It was his bloody wife's fault for wanting kids in the first place. "You stupid little shit. You think it's easy for me to make charges like this disappear? I'm a split second away from washing my hands of you altogether."

The expression on his son's face faltered. The grin was soon gone, wiped in the interests of self-preservation. At that point, Kessler Junior was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

"The only reason you're not rotting in the brig is because this whole shitstorm would reflect just as badly on me. I can't afford any scandals. Not now. However, this is the last straw. Next time you're on your own, regardless of how much your mother loves you."

With the threat gone, the dread on Craig Kessler's face disappeared. It was replaced by the sulky petulance of youth. "You promised me another post after that Williams bitch had me shit-canned off the _Normandy_. Now there's talk that she's swanning around the galaxy under her own orders. She's making you look stupid, Dad."

Kessler fought against the anger that bubbled up at the mention of that name. Apparently now his humiliation went further than his own private reservations. If scuttlebutt said he couldn't control her it was only a matter of time until the Defence Council started asking questions. The woman was infinitely more trouble than she was worth. "You know full well I can't touch Captain Williams." _Not yet at least._ "Other junior officers would have killed for that _Normandy_ posting and you threw it away-"

"I didn't do-"

"Shut up. I've already told you I don't care what you did or didn't do. Regardless of anyone's personal opinion, Ashley Williams is an outstanding marine. And you pissed her off within five minutes of arriving on board. I then gave you a simple job. All you had to do was work hard, keep your nose clean, and another post would follow. Unfortunately, you're allergic to hard work and you have difficulty taking no for an answer."

The smirk returned. "I like it when they play hard to get."

Kessler wasn't remotely amused. "Well next time find someone who is actually willing or you'll find yourself staring down the barrel of a dishonourable discharge and a prison sentence. Understood?"

"Yessir." The reply was swift and formal.

"Do what you're told for a couple of months and it'll be easier to set you up in a decent post, possibly even a promotion if you can make an effort."

"And the charges?" Craig enquired.

"They'll disappear. Thankfully I know the CO in question. He owes me a favour. I should think a transfer to one of the remoter colonies will solve the problem." Kessler felt sick at the sight of the smug grin on his son's face. Craig had the aptitude to rise through the ranks, but his attitude was born out of self-entitlement and arrogance. Kessler blamed his wife for spoiling the boy. "Now get out of my sight. And call your mother."

"Yessir. Thanks, Dad."

With his recalcitrant son gone, Kessler was left with a cold cup of coffee and a statement from a young marine Private sitting in front of him. He was going to have words with someone along the chain of command. If the woman had been told to shut up in the first place, the whole mess could have been avoided. As it was, Kessler could only hope that it went away swiftly and quietly. There were simply too many machinations on the horizon for him to be mired down with such petty concerns. Kessler half wondered if it ought to be his son that was being packed off to an Alliance backwater.

The door chimed. Kessler wasn't in the mood but he admitted his aide-de-camp. At least Captain Weston could make a decent cup of coffee.

"Was that your son I saw leaving, sir?" Weston commented. "A fine looking young man. Definitely in the mould of his father."

Kessler ignored the obsequious comment. "This better be good news, Weston," he demanded as he shoved the datapad out of sight. "I'm not in the mood for updates from Blackheath. I've already got a fucking headache."

"Not Blackheath. We've found Shepard."

Kessler's attention was immediately piqued. Definitely a better offering than a cup of coffee. "Shepard? It's about time. Where the hell is she?"

Weston handed him a datapad containing a report and a set of surveillance photos. "Ilium, sir. Nos Astra."

Kessler maintained his composure as he studied the images. They were grainy and partially blurred, obviously shot from a distance. They depicted a young woman who might have been Shepard standing on a balcony. Several of the images also showed an asari closely resembling Shepard's known associate, Liara T'Soni. Kessler wasn't about to get excited. "Hardly conclusive proof."

"That was my assessment too, sir, until I read the report. The agent collected DNA evidence. It's conclusively Shepard. There's no proof that it's T'Soni with her, but we can make the reasonable assumption that the asari won't be far from Shepard's side."

"Then why didn't our agent put a bullet through her forehead? I want her in a body bag, not a goddamn photo shoot."

"Sir, she is surrounded by a small army of mercs at all times. Not to mention it's Ilium. We have no jurisdiction to carry out an operation on the necessary scale."

"It doesn't require a complex operation, Weston. An idiot with a bloody big bomb would work just as well."

Kessler now had to admit that he was feeling surprisingly optimistic. After the debacle with his son, this news had improved his mood immensely. Shepard represented a major potential flaw in the Alliance's plans. Oh, David Anderson was no doubt still skulking around somewhere. However Anderson had little gravitas when it came to uniting the general populace. Had the man become Councillor he might have been more of a threat, but he was only ever an ex-Admiral. The rumours surrounding his dishonourable discharge were firmly rooted thanks to some very effective PR. Shepard was another matter altogether. Since she'd escaped, the bitch had caused Kessler a fair few sleepless nights spent wondering when she would emerge from the shadows. However, hero or not, the woman was still largely an enigma – seemingly relying both on luck and surrounding herself with exceptional talent to supplement the meagre skills she herself possessed. The whole coming back from the dead thing (twice) was something he didn't want to dwell on.

Kessler continued, "I'm authorising any and all means necessary to take her out. I don't care if we piss off local government. In fact, the bigger the spectacle, the better."

"Understood, sir. I'll put the necessary plans in motion."

"Oh, and Weston?"

"Sir?"

"Ensure that the body count includes T'Soni. That's one squid we can't afford to leave alive."

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

"So…the bishop moves like this-"

Myke tentatively keyed in a command on the interface. On the holographic board in front of her, a small figure made a diagonal move in response. Myke glanced up expectantly. On the opposite side of the board, a pleased grin spread across Sam Traynor's face.

"You've got it." Sam nodded enthusiastically.

Myke beamed in response. "And the rook is sort of the same, except it moves in a straight line."

"Precisely."

It then took Sam just a second to decide her next move, sliding a pawn through into an empty square. As with all the moves that had come before, Myke suspected Sam was deliberately trying to give her a chance.

Myke had already decided that chess was both the very worst and very best of games. For a start, there were too many stupid rules. Why couldn't all the pieces make the same move? With each turn, it seemed as though Sam had to explain some strange facet of the game.

And it was boring. Little holographic pieces shuffling across squares with no discernible goal. Sam had mentioned something about a 'checkmate.' However, unless it caused the pieces to explode, Myke doubted whether it would prove to be anything exciting. She studied the board, frowning as she contemplated her next move.

"Take your time."

Sam leant back and casually swept a hand through her short dark hair. Myke's heart palpitated in response.

Sam. The reason that chess was the best gave ever invented. The human woman's enthusiasm for the game was clearly demonstrated in everything she said, as well as her infinite supply of patience. From Sam's lips, the unfamiliar names of the pieces sounded like caresses. Myke hung on every word, obediently making moves according to Sam's instructions, earning smiles and laughter along the way.

With Sam being only the second human that Myke had spent any amount of time with, she naturally compared her new friend to Shepard. There was something about Shepard that radiated strength. Even when she was at rest, Shepard was a predator on the cusp of violence. It suited Shepard's personality that she spoke with carefully measured, deliberate words.

It was almost as though Sam was everything Shepard was not. The younger woman spoke a great deal and was quick to laugh. The strength that Sam conveyed wasn't that born of violence, but of resilience and calm. Then there were the physical differences. Myke found it next to impossible to decide who was more attractive. That line of questioning had lasted for all of a few moments, before she decided it was inappropriate to be thinking of her best friend as attractive. She had no such qualms about dwelling on Sam, whom she found fascinating.

Occasionally, throughout the game, Myke had observed flashes of melancholy flicker across the young woman's features. She knew Sam had a lot on her mind, so she made a point of paying attention in a way that she never did with Samara. It was hardly a chore. Myke had long since realised that she enjoyed paying attention to Sam. It also helped that the human's voice didn't drone like the justicar's.

If only chess wasn't so bloody boring. Despite her best efforts, Myke tried to stifle one yawn too many. She winced as Sam caught her with her mouth wide open.

"Myke…you'd tell me if you were bored, right?" Sam asked without a trace of irritation. "You can be honest."

"I'm not bored!" Myke was quick to reply. Still, she sensed an opportunity for an escape. "I'm a little hungry though."

Sam frowned good-humouredly. "You ate less than an hour ago. But if you want-"

"Oh, no I'm fine." Myke had entirely forgotten they'd shared a box of noodles. Well, 'shared' wasn't exactly the right word. She had eaten most of it while Sam had protested that she wasn't hungry.

"Why don't we call it quits on chess?" Sam suggested. "What do you usually do for fun on your days off?"

It was a simple enough question but the truth was that Myke didn't really have 'day's on.' She did occasionally do a little work for Shepard, but it wasn't as though she ever put in an eight-hour shift. "Well I hang around at Shepard's…we do stuff, sometimes it's work. Then there are my lessons with Samara. Plus I keep an eye on the docks, you know, the comings and goings. That's pretty important. Occasionally I jump on the bed-" Myke bit her lip to stop herself. "Oh, and I help out at a clinic in the slums-"

"Backtrack," Sam wasn't about to let her get away by glossing over Myke's admission. "What was that about jumping on the bed?"

Myke tried to respond casually. "You mean you don't?"

"Well…I don't really have a bed as such. It often feels like a cold slab with a couple of blankets. I guess the Navy doesn't want to encourage their sailors to stay in bed."

Myke nodded thoughtfully. She suddenly realised that her admission had actually been a stroke of genius. She found herself pondering the best way to ask whether Sam would like to try her bed. "Shepard once said I was the laziest sod she'd ever met. I figured that she really only knows military types so it's not fair for her to judge me to that standard."

"You've got a good point." Sam laughed.

"And the messiest, the biggest scrounge-" Myke had to cut herself short again. She hoped that Sam was still laughing with her as opposed to at her. "Shit, I'm not exactly selling myself as a friend am I?"

"I think you're sweet," Sam replied.

_Sweet._ The word rolled around in Myke's head. She thought of the connotations associated with the word and it was nothing along the lines of 'hot' or remotely swoon worthy. Fucking sweet. Like the pastries she liked to eat. Sam probably thought of her as 'that cute little asari kid.' Someone to hang out with, eat noodles, and generally just be friends.

Myke didn't know why she was surprised. She had offered to be Sam's friend. Anything else would have been presumptuous. A witty remark could have upped the ante, but Myke couldn't think of anything that wasn't a petulant rebuttal.

To make matters worse, Sam chose that moment to glance at the time. "Shit, I didn't realise how long we'd been playing. I need to move or I'll be late for my duty shift."

"You could always call in sick?"

Another laugh. Clearly Sam thought she was joking. Myke was simply having trouble comprehending a job where you actually had to show up at a certain time. Sam rose to her feet and she reluctantly followed suit.

"Thanks for humouring me. I haven't had anyone to play against in a while."

Myke smiled. She wasn't sure she would call it 'playing' exactly. Certainly not for Sam. They paused in the doorway. Myke instinctively knew that this was a point at which she could sweep Sam off her feet and plant a kiss on her. At least, that was what they always did that in the vids. Instead Myke panicked.

"Bye!" The word slipped out so hurriedly it was almost as though Myke was shouting at Sam.

Sam smiled. Warm, friendly. "See you, Myke."

They both paused over the threshold. Myke caught a flicker of something in Sam's eyes and for a moment she wondered what would happen if she were to lean forward expectantly. The moment passed too quickly. Seconds later Sam was walking away.

Myke was left standing in the doorway feeling like a complete idiot. She turned to face the wall and leaned forward with a low groan.

"Stupid…stupid…stupid." She punctuated each 'stupid' by hitting her forehead on the wall.

She was left with only the holographic chess pieces for company and the realisation that this whole 'attraction thing' was a much more difficult game that she had originally anticipated. Apparently, things didn't just happen. You couldn't tell what the other person was thinking. Nor could they be expected to know that you thought they were more attractive than a double deluxe burger with all the trimmings.

Being a practically minded person, Myke turned her thoughts to finding a solution. A brainwave hit her almost immediately. It was obvious. A triumphant grin spread across her face. She would ask Shepard for advice.

* * *

 

On entering Liara's office, Ash did a double take. She felt as though she had left Shepard and Liara's nondescript apartment, transitioning into a clandestine military facility. The room was relatively small but it was crammed with a dizzying amount of tech shoehorned into every available space. There were no windows. No home comforts to speak of. Not even a chair. The sole nod to the fact that Liara was a person as opposed to a machine was the half-empty cup of tea resting on the back of the HI terminal. Liara swept this up quickly, as though she was embarrassed to admit to actually needing sustenance.

Ash was slightly overwhelmed by the array of screens. She'd heard rumours of the extent of the Shadow Broker network. What if she accidently hit the wrong button? "I should probably just use _Normandy's_ QEC," she ventured uncertainly.

"I run my entire network from this room. My comms are as secure as you will find anywhere in the Galaxy," Liara explained patiently. "You wanted to be able to talk to Miranda freely? Here is your opportunity."

Ash glanced around nervously. She shrugged. "I just feel…uncomfortable. As though I'm intruding somewhere I'm not supposed to be."

Liara smiled kindly. "Just say thank you and tell me to go away." She paused, stared hard at Ashley for a few moments. Frowned. "My apologies, Ashley. I did not tell you that it would be a video feed. Your hair…"

"Shit, Liara. Now it crosses your mind?"

Ash ran her hands through her limp hair. It was still decidedly purple. With all that had happened over the past week, getting her natural hair colour back had seemed like a low priority. Now it detracted from the anticipation of being able to actually look at Miranda. The one concession she was able to make was rolling her shirt sleeves down to cover the tattoos on her arms.

"Perhaps she will not even notice," Liara suggested helpfully.

Ash instinctively arched an eyebrow in response. Liara winced in acknowledgement. After showing her the appropriate commands, Liara left without a further word. When the door closed, Ash was left alone in the dark with her own thoughts. Her fingers remained poised above the interface for some time. She knew she was wasting precious comm time with Miranda, but her guilt held her in its thrall. Now that she was poised on the brink, honesty didn't seem like the best approach. In fact, it was absolutely terrifying. The words that she had mulled over in her head deserted her and she was left with an emotional void.

Miranda was also guilty. She'd colluded with Shepard to conceal the truth.

Ash set her jaw into a stubborn, hard line as she initiated contact. Why the hell should she suffer over a damn kiss?

The subsequent wait was almost unbearable. Finally the communication connected. As the image focused, Ash felt nothing except a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. As Miranda's face came into view courtesy of Liara's tech, the hollow feeling was eroded by relief and a sudden, persistent desire _. I can't lose her._ The mantra was stuck in Ash's head. _If I don't tell her about Kurin, she'll never know._

"Hey…" Miranda paused. Her mouth formed into a perfect 'o' of shock. "Ash…why is your hair purple?"

"I'm trying out a new look." Ash had a sudden impulse to roll up her shirt and display the obscene tattoo on her stomach merely to observe Miranda's reaction. "I didn't realise you would miss my dark, flowing locks."

There it was. The laugh. Ash's heart skipped a beat, several, at the sound.

"I actually don't care," Miranda admitted. "If you were here now, I'd still fuck you, purple hair and all."

Ash's cheeks grew warm. She wanted that. Desperately.

For lack of a better word, Miranda looked perfect. There were bags under her eyes and her braided hair looked as though it hadn't been washed in days, but she still looked perfect. Ash had to stop herself from reaching out to touch the screen. As the silence dragged on, Miranda's lip curved upward into a slight smile. Ash wanted to make her laugh again.

"It's nice to see you."

"Nice?" Miranda arched an eyebrow.

Ash knew she needed to do better. "Amazing, brilliant…wonderful." She was already running out of words. It wasn't a difficulty she would have faced if Miranda had been physically with her. She'd express everything with a kiss instead, or several, leading to nakedness and fucking. Only then would she be able to convey the extent of her feelings. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Miranda Lawson."

"And you look like crap."

There it was. It was spoken tenderly, but with blunt honesty. Ashley expected nothing less from the woman she loved.

"What the hell happened to you?"

The question hit Ash like a slap. Her eyes burned and suddenly she was fighting tears. Even as she stubbornly told herself not to start crying, the tears welled up regardless. Unable to let herself break down in front of Miranda, Ash was forced to turn her head as she scrubbed the moisture away with her fingers.

"Fuck." Ash was now angry with herself. There was no way she could conceal anything from Miranda. Not even something that could potentially destroy their relationship.

"Ashley?" Miranda's voice was laden with concern, tinged with clear frustration. "Talk to me."

Tears staunched, Ashley turned back to face Miranda. Her partner was leaning in towards the screen, so close her face seemed to fill it completely. Her usually flawless brow was deeply furrowed with worry.

"If you dare tell me that you're fine…" Miranda let the threat go unspoken.

Miranda drew back from the screen, only far enough to allow herself to press her fingers against it. Ash gave in and did the same. The cold display was a poor substitute for the warmth of a touch, but made Ash feel as though they were a little closer. Any anger that she had been holding onto was fast dissipating.

"The dog and pony show I told you about? It wasn't routine. It never was." She watched the play of emotions across Miranda's face, trying to ascertain how much information she could reveal without distressing her lover beyond reason. Ash decided to leave out the part where she almost drank herself to death. "We got the job done, but the _Normandy_ was heavily damaged…and being chased by a fleet of very pissed off mercs."

"Mercs? Where the hell are you now? Please tell me you're somewhere safe?"

"I am safe," Ash reassured her. "With some help from an old friend. Liara brought the _Normandy_ to Omega."

"Omega…" Surprise tinged Miranda's voice, but at the same time Ash could practically see the thoughts behind those grey eyes of hers. It was clear that Miranda knew Shepard was on Omega. Miranda was now trying to gauge whether Ash knew.

"I know, M. I know about Shepard." Ash offered quietly, without a trace of anger. She was the guilty party, undeserving of any right to resentment. She refused to drag out the conversation. She'd already wasted enough time. "And I understand why you couldn't tell me anything. You were trying to protect her."

In an uncharacteristic gesture, Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, struggling with tears of her own. "I'm sorry, Ash. I know how much Shepard meant…means to you. I had to respect her decision to tell as few people as possible. You have to-"

"Please stop apologising." Ash cut Miranda off gently. "I was angry at first, and I did blame you…but that's finished."

"Thank you." Miranda sounded relieved. "I thought perhaps you wouldn't be able to forgive me."

"No, Miranda," Ash whispered. "Of course not…"

As Ash was unable to finish her sentence, silence descended again for a few moments. Miranda appeared unconcerned, staring at Ash with an uncharacteristically wistful expression on her face. It was odd, but exceptionally endearing. Ash lost her train of thought, instead wondering whether Miranda would ever wear that expression again in her presence. _You need to get this over with_ , Ash reminded herself. _Stop fooling her into thinking you're some sort of saint._

"There's, um, something I need to talk to you-"

"Is it a conversation we can save for another time?" Lost in her own thoughts, Miranda missed the stricken expression on Ashley's face. "This is the first opportunity I've had to talk to you in weeks…to see you in months."

The suggestive smile forming on Miranda's face made it difficult for Ash to continue with any sort of serious conversation. Her mouth was dry. "We can talk about anything you want."

"I hope this doesn't come out wrong…but I don't want to talk, Ash," Miranda said in a breathy voice. "I think about you constantly. You're in my thoughts every bloody day…at night in my dreams. I want you, or at least as much of you as I can have like this. I know it might seem crude, but would you…do you want that?"

Ashley's eyes widened. "Fuck…"

They stared at each other, trying to gauge their respective reactions. Miranda was pleading with her eyes. Ash moistened her lips, and lost herself in a moment of imagining the possibilities, picturing Miranda reaching inside her uniform, getting herself off whilst draped over the console. Her own body would respond in tandem. As long as she didn't leave sweaty palm prints on the console surface. Even if she did, surely Liara would understand.

"I've got time…within reason," Miranda continued. "Maybe fifteen minutes. Ash?"

Ash hated to see her lover plead for anything. Especially not a request that ought to have been so simple. And one that she herself wanted just as badly.

"Ash?"

"Yes." The hoarse whisper left Ash's lips like the last gasp of a dying man.

It should have been the best thing that had happened to her in months, instead the sight of Miranda dragging her t-shirt over her head almost brought Ash to tears. She wanted to be able to let her guilt go, even for the fifteen minutes that they had together, but it nagged away at the forefront of her mind like a migraine. Miranda's bra fell from her shoulders, only serving to remind Ash that she couldn't remove her own clothing. Naked from the waist up, her chest heaving slightly, Miranda looked like a goddess. Ash watched the hands that roamed across her lover's body, imagining they were her own. In response, her own hand fumbled urgently at her belt, dragging it free only just enough to be able to force her hand beneath her layers of clothes. It felt like an age since she had last brought herself to orgasm.

_You gave into your urges last week with Kurin, or has the sight of Miranda's tits made you forget about that?_ Ash reminded herself. She stubbornly ignored her own thoughts as she found herself already slick with need. This would be over quickly. They both needed it.

"Fuck!" It took an immense effort for Ash to yank her hand out of her fatigues. "I can't do this.

Miranda barely paused. "Just watch."

"No, we can't do this!" Ash slammed her hand down in frustration with such force that even the haptic interface flickered in surprise. "Miranda, please stop."

The hand slamming down had clearly been enough. Miranda's cheeks were still flushed and she was breathing heavily, but her attention was fully focused.

"I'm sorry," Miranda offered in an apologetic tone. "I should have realised that you wouldn't be comfortable with this sort of thing."

"Comfortable?" Ash frowned in confusion. Everything was unfolding as though she was seeing it through a fog. Not to mention it was bloody hard to concentrate with Miranda still half-naked. It took her a moment to process. "No…I mean, yes! I'm comfortable with this. It's not about that. I wish it were. For fuck's sake, M, can you put your shirt back on?"

Miranda's response was to do nothing of the sort. She stood up straight, with one hand propped on her hip. Her stare was direct and challenging.

Ash couldn't maintain eye contact. She closed her eyes for the moment. Everything was going so horribly wrong.

"What are you not telling me? What the bloody hell happened to you over the past few weeks?" Miranda demanded, not without some compassion. "The purple hair I can overlook, but this weird behaviour? Ash, just talk to me."

"My behaviour?" Ash asked indignantly. Anger was the only emotion she could manage. "I'm not the one concealing the fact that my best friend was alive from my partner!"

"Is that what this is about? Why did you bloody well say you were fine?" Miranda sighed. Without a further word, she disappeared from view. When she reappeared, she was in the process of tugging her t-shirt over her head. "I've already apologised," she continued in a tired voice. "What else do you want from me?"

Ash pressed a hand to her forehead. "Stop saying you're sorry. You don't get to be the martyr here." She drew in a breath. Took the plunge. "Something else happened on this op. Not something I intended…" Fuck. Everything sounded like a hollow excuse. It was her fault. Everything that happened between her and Kurin had been unavoidable. Ash reasoned that this was supposed to hurt like hell. "I was with someone else. I…kissed someone else."

It was out there. Ash desperately searched Miranda's face for any trace of a reaction. There was nothing to be found. It was as though Miranda's face was carved in stone save for her still bright red cheeks.

"You kissed someone else." A cold statement of fact.

"It was part of the mission at first…our cover. And then…it wasn't."

"Did you fuck him?"

"Him?" Of course Miranda would assume that. Ash shook her head. "No." _I wanted to though_. She couldn't bring herself to go that far in her admission. "I didn't fuck her, Miranda. I was lonely. I missed you."

Miranda bristled, but maintained her icy facade. "You were lonely? I'm stuck in the colonies and my only friend is a psychopathic ex-convict who once threatened to smear me across the walls of the Normandy. None of that has forced me to find someone else to fuck."

"I didn't fuck her!" How vehement did she have to be? If Miranda could escalate this, then so could she. "It was a fucking mistake." A series of mistakes. Ash felt sick to her stomach. She couldn't maintain the anger. "Miranda, please. I'm sorry."

Silence followed. Ash wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all. It was one mistake between two people who otherwise loved each other enough to overcome their vast differences. Yet she couldn't think of any words that would help her case. The worst element of the whole fucked up situation was the relative lack of emotion from Miranda. Ash didn't know what she had expected – tears, anger…but something.

"I love you," Ash finished in a pathetic voice. Her teeth ground together. The whole damn thing was pathetic. She could terminate the conversation. End everything that simply. Spare herself the pain of trying to find forgiveness.

"I know you do," Miranda replied softly.

There was a noticeable catch to her lover's voice, and Ash realised that the stony silence had been a front. Miranda was struggling to hold herself together.

"Why did you even tell me?"

"I couldn't lie to you. Not about something like this."

Miranda sighed. "Regardless of everything, I am truthfully sorry about Shepard. I know how much she means to you."

"Are we going to be alright?" Ash dared herself to ask.

The mask slipped altogether. Miranda looked stricken. "Don't ask me that. You know I still want this as much as you do. I just don't know. I need…" She folded her arms across her chest, obviously embarrassed at how little her t-shirt concealed. "I need to go. Take care of yourself."

Ash laughed. "Yeah. Since I'm so damn good at that."

The image onscreen suddenly vanished as Miranda terminated the call. Ash was devastated, but relieved at the same time. She knew she would not have been able to do it. She remained standing at the console for several minutes, letting the mantle of guilt settle firmly on her shoulders. Uncomfortably aware that, despite everything, she was still aroused. A lingering scent filled the air, faintly reminding her of the days in the immediate aftermath of the war when it felt as though they had all the time in the world. She took a few moments longer to fix her uniform before exiting the room. An awkward, scant conversation with Liara followed downstairs. Ash then made her escape, grateful that Shepard had not been present to drag the truth out of her.

* * *

 

Somehow, Ash managed to make her way back to the _Normandy_. Once on board, she wanted nothing other than a scalding hot shower. A drink was out of the question. EDI would inform Chakwas and she'd be relieved of command. Ash tightened her jaw. Being without an occupation was unthinkable. Keeping herself busy was the only way she could function.

They just needed more time. Wasn't time supposed to be the great healer? Ash knew Miranda too well for that bullshit. Forgiveness would only come if Miranda wanted it to. Remembering the stricken expression on her lover's face, Ash doubted whether the pain was worth it.

Upon returning to the _Normandy_ , Ash found the CIC blissfully empty save for the current watch. Her first instinct had been to head for a shower, but she couldn't face that level of inactivity. Ash changed her mind and decided to head for the shuttle bay. There were always rifles that needed cleaning. The smell. The repetition. Cortez's preference for silence. It was exactly what Ash needed. The elevator door opened. In an episode of comically terrible timing, Ash came face to face with the last individual she wanted to see. Ash's jaw clenched so tightly it felt as though her teeth would shatter.

"Williams-"

Kurin barely had the chance to utter her name before Ash seized the front of her uniform. The asari uttered a sharp cry as Ash slammed her up against the internal wall of the elevator. Blood pounded between Ash's ears as she pinned Kurin hard. A wave of dark energy would have easily dislodged her, but Kurin was stunned and unresponsive beneath Ash's fury.

"Do you want to kiss me or hit me?" Kurin finally found her voice.

Ash blinked. She realised her nails were digging into the palm of her right hand. Sickened with herself, she released her grip. Kurin slumped, but didn't move. Ash turned away, clenched fists resting by her sides as she tried to think of something other than the pleasure of hearing the crack of knuckle on jaw.

"What the hell was that?" The initial shock had passed. Now Kurin was angry. "Clearly that stuff about you wanting to be friends was utter garbage."

"It wasn't," Ash managed to reply. "I meant it when I said it."

"And now?" Kurin narrowed her eyes in realisation. "Let me guess, you told your girlfriend about us out of some bullshit desire to be honest and she ended the relationship? _You kissed me_ , Williams. More than once in case you've forgotten. You wanted to escalate things much as I did."

"Yes, I did," Ash admitted with brutal honesty. "Which is why I don't want to see you again. I can't-"

"Well, Captain, it's your lucky day," Kurin interrupted harshly. "The _Pserimos_ turned up an hour ago. I was on my way to find you and give you the good news, but clearly you don't give a fuck about the rest of your _non-human_ command."

That comment hurt…but it was largely true. It had nothing to do with the fact that the crew of the _Pserimos_ were asari. With everything – almost dying, Kurin, Shepard – the missing ship had barely crossed Ash's mind. "Are the crew safe?"

"Save for a few medbay cases, the girls are fine. The ship itself has seen better days. As soon as she's patched up, we'll be en route back to Thessia and you'll be rid of me for good. After all, we can't have the famous Captain Williams being distracted by her asari fling."

"This isn't how I wanted things to play out, Tasha," Ash replied. "I'm sorry."

The elevator doors opened and Kurin stepped out into the mess hall. "Saying sorry doesn't mean much, Williams. It's your actions that count." She turned back to face Ash with an unreadable expression. "You should've hit me…at least it would have made us both feel better."

 


	37. The Sun Shines on Omega

**Mindoir, Attican Traverse**

Miranda did not like the expression on Jack Zero's face. Not that she liked any expression on Jack's face, it was just that this one was even worse than usual. Mocking, with confidence bordering on arrogance. It was an expression perfectly calculated to piss Miranda off. It was working as intended.

But maybe that was the whole point.

"You remember the safe word, Cheerleader?"

"If you're going to be juvenile about this-"

Her admonishment was rudely interrupted as Jack flared, corona erupting outwards with sudden and violent force. The resulting shockwaves struck Miranda a split second later, sending her flying. She hit the ground hard, the air driven from her lungs. As she took deep breaths, Jack's smug grin loomed. Despite the pain, fury drove Miranda to act. She rose awkwardly but swiftly, lashing out with an attack. It caught Jack square in the chest.

Uttering a surprised 'fuck me,' the ex-convict slammed into the dirt. Unlike Jack, Miranda didn't gloat. Her follow-up was intended to detonate the first, resulting in a biotic explosion that would leave Jack's ears ringing for weeks. Miranda was a split second too slow. Jack, like a creature operating on instinct, was already moving. The dark energy sailed harmlessly over her head.

The grin was gone, replaced by a determined sneer. Jack meant business.

From that point Miranda lost track of the number of attacks they traded. Back and forth, using the entirety of the parade ground. They ignored the marines spectating - save for the odd errant warp field finding a non-combatant. The passage of time was only measured in exhaustion. The dirt on Miranda's skin and clothing mingled with sweat. She took consolation in the fact that Jack appeared to be just as wrecked. They had both slowed somewhat, but none of their earlier ferocity was missing. Miranda couldn't allow herself to falter for a moment. The instant she let her guard down or made a mistake, Jack would pounce. It was this ingredient that took their sparring to the next level. It meant something. Neither wanted to lose.

Miranda clearly remembered the last time they'd fought. In the bowels of the _Normandy_. Red emergency lighting had given Jack a devilish aura. Every inch the psychopath. That coupled with the fact that she knew Jack wanted to kill her meant Miranda couldn't lose. The stakes were no longer that high. She and Jack had established a truce where they could co-exist with only a minimum of friction. It required concessions from both sides. Finally agreeing to spar with Jack in public had been one of Miranda's.

Now, feeling the thrill of combat coursing throughout her body, Miranda realised how badly she needed this. A substitute for the months of pent-up frustration. An outlet for the whirlwind of emotions that she had experienced over the past few days. She had run the full gamut in response to Ashley's admission. Anger, devastation, confusion – she couldn't seem to settle on any one state of mind. The only certainty was that it consumed everything else.

Miranda tried to concentrate. Jack was a difficult opponent. Having learned to fight through torture and desperation, the ex-convict was almost impossible to predict. Orthodox technique went out of the window. Jack's biotics were unquestionably superior to Miranda's own. And Jack was always hungrier for the win.

Frustratingly, Jack had been right when she said that Miranda telegraphed her moves. Miranda was a fast-learner, spurred on by her frustration, but it was impossible to undo years of training in the space of a single afternoon. Jack sent another shockwave careening towards her. The biotic cascade was slow and avoidable, but Jack cast such a wide field that Miranda's evasive action was almost always a very unattractive dive. Jack simply enjoyed the sight of her scrabbling in the dirt. Miranda rolled, knowing that Jack expected her to follow up immediately. She feinted. Jack moved to counter an attack which never came. Instead Miranda sent an arc surging from her omni tool. Jack had no shields to overload, but she yelped as the tech attack delivered a hearty shock.

"No tech shit!" Jack protested.

"Do _you_ remember the safe word, Jack?"

Miranda felt a brief thrill. She didn't exactly enjoy causing Jack pain, but it was satisfying hearing someone else cry out for once. Jack was still shaking the sensation from her limbs when Miranda followed up, surging forward with a biotically enhanced punch. Her fist caught Jack squarely across the jaw. Jack was slight, but she was tougher than she looked and remained on her feet, trading two blows of her own. One caught Miranda squarely in the solar plexus and she dropped like a stone. Having the wind knocked out of her didn't hurt in itself, Jack's follow up kick to her jaw did. The salty taste of blood filled Miranda's mouth. She spat gobs of it into the dirt with a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Her ears were ringing. She saw stars. Fuck Ashley. Miranda had given her everything.

Most of the blame was her own. This had happened because she'd laid herself bare. Opened herself up to the prospect of being hurt in such a fashion.

Everything she was, everything she wanted for the future. It was all entwined with Ashley.

Her nails dragged in the dirt as she struggled to push off the ground. Jack placed a booted foot in the small of her back. Shoved her back down again.

Over the past day, Miranda constantly asked herself why. She didn't need to be reminded of her physical appearance. She knew exactly what her father had made her to be. Perfect. She’d also learned to acknowledge that she was deeply flawed. Her need for control and independence had never allowed anyone close in the past. Ashley knew that better than anyone and yet apparently it hadn't been enough. Miranda desperately needed to know why that hadn't been enough. Why _she_ hadn't been enough.

Around the edges of the parade ground, marines were already cheering Jack's victory. As soon as the pressure was removed from her back, Miranda rolled over. She felt the fury in her expression, even as she found Jack's hand outstretched, waiting to help her up.

Miranda wasn't in the mood for playing nice. And she wasn't done with the fight – or at least the _need_ to fight. She grasped Jack's hand, used the grip to drag the other woman down into the dirt alongside her. Before Jack could muster any sort of surprise, she pounced, pinning Jack to the ground. The surprise had just started to form when Miranda wiped it off with a solid thump of her fist. She didn't put biotics behind the blow - just raw, physical force. With her nose bloodied, Jack reacted predictably, corona exploding outwards in an effort to dislodge her. Miranda was prepared. Their barriers collided, creating an effect that sent shockwaves radiating outwards with enough force to topple several spectators. Utterly exhausted, Miranda grabbed a handful of Jack's sweaty t-shirt and jerked her up off the ground.

"Say it," Miranda growled.

"Fuck you, bitch." Jack grinned. Her teeth were stained pink with blood.

Miranda slammed the back of Jack's head against the ground. The force reverberated through her entire body. "Say it!"

"Fuck! Fine, you fucking win. Satisfied?"

No. Not remotely. But it was never Jack that Miranda had wanted to hit.

Somehow she managed to stand despite her legs feeling as though the bones had been stripped out. She didn't offer Jack a hand. Instead she stood, every muscle in her body tensed. The dark energy swirled just out of reach.

"Relax, Cheerleader," Jack remained on the ground, levering herself up into a sitting position with her elbows propped on her knees. "We're done."

"I'm sorry, Jack." A part of her actually was sorry. Jack's face was a mess.

"Hey, don't ruin this shit by apologising," Jack replied. "This was the most fun I've had in months."

Although Miranda definitely didn't agree on the 'fun' part, the exertion had been exactly what she needed. Not to mention the opportunity to expend some of her anger. She was dimly aware of the other marines surrounding them in a press of bodies. Someone else helped Jack to her feet. Money was exchanging hands in some cases. Miranda supposed that it was her job to put a stop to it, but she was too exhausted to give a shit.

"Damn, Lieutenant." Parker was standing in front of her, Rousmaniere and Jameson hanging nearby. "Remind me not to piss you off…ever."

Miranda had never been one of the 'guys', nor did she want to be. It wasn't in her nature. She managed something that might have been considered a smile.

Without a word, she pushed her way out of the throng of marines. She flexed her jaw as she walked. It ached, but functioned. It was a good thing that their MREs mostly consisted of paste.

The shower block was cold and empty. Miranda stripped off of her grimy fatigues with relish. A few moments later the ice-cold water hit her body like thousands of needles – harsh and invigorating at the same time. She closed her eyes and made no move to do anything other than simply stand under the stream, letting the water do all the work while thoughts trailed sluggishly through her brain. She wondered what her younger self would think of this future. Would she consider it time wasted spent trying to prove something inconsequential? Miranda already knew the answer. She didn't owe the Alliance anything. It would be almost effortless to walk away from everything and start a new life. Her personal funds had been exhausted during the months before the War, but she still possessed a considerable amount of intellectual property – either locked down in encrypted files or simply held within her own impressive memory. She didn't need the Alliance, or anyone. Not even Ashley.

Time passed. How long exactly Miranda didn't know. It wasn't until she heard bare feet padding across the wet floor towards her that she even wondered about it. She opened her eyes. Jack was standing in front of her, naked save for her extensive tattoos. At any other point in their volatile history the encounter would have been awkward at best, but Miranda felt nothing other than a curious detachment. Something compelled her to stare. If Jack's tattoo armour were stripped away, there would have been almost nothing to her. Nothing except a pale, haunting creature with eyes and lips that were both too big for her narrow face.

"Daddy really did make you to be perfect didn't he?" Jack murmured.

"It's a façade, nothing more," Miranda dismissed quickly. She hated the manner in which Jack referred to Henry Lawson. The man had never been a 'Dad.' He'd barely been a father.

Jack stepped forward beneath the stream of water. She yelped and jumped backwards. "Fuck, this shit is freezing." Without apology, she reached past Miranda and adjusted the temperature.

"What are you doing, Jack?" Miranda asked quietly.

"Showering. What the fuck does it look like?"

Miranda arched an eyebrow as Jack began scrubbing gingerly at her battered face. Acting as though there was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Jack?"

"What?" Jack finally hit pause. "Fine, maybe I'm curious. Captain Perfect fucks someone else, maybe I wanted to see what you'd do about it."

Miranda wasn't surprised. She did regret having told Jack the bare facts. It had been impossible not to. Jack had been there when she'd emerged from the comms room pale and in a state of disbelief.

"Ash didn't…I believe she didn't…" _If Ashley says she didn't sleep with this person, then she didn't. You don't need to explain yourself to Jack. That was never the issue._ Miranda would have laughed if not for her jaw. The whole scenario was preposterous. "I'm not interested, Jack. Revenge sex…that's not me."

Jack shrugged. Unconcerned. "Fucking thought so."

While Jack contentedly resumed washing the blood from her face, Miranda simply stood –feeling both a sense of detachment and extreme discomfort.

"Ah, Jack?"

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Princess?"

"It's a little invasive."

As though it was a monumental inconvenience, Jack moved a few steps to her left. She switched on her own shower. The concession hardly made Miranda feel less awkward, but she tried to ignore Jack as she resumed showering. It wasn't easy. Miranda didn't know whether to be more bothered by Jack's lack of propriety, or the fact that Jack's scrawny, tattooed frame didn't repulse her as much as she claimed in her head.

"You killed it out there, Lawson." Jack sounded sincere. "I forgot that you don't entirely suck at this whole business."

"Is this you being gracious in defeat?"

"Fuck no. It'll just make it more satisfying when I kick your butt next time," Jack replied. "Although first I'm going to make Williams regret the day she was born."

Miranda sighed. Her gut instinct wanted that too. "Jack-"

"Yeah, I know it's none of my fucking business. But I'm just saying that Williams is an idiot."

"I agree," Miranda replied with an honest nod. "But I still love her. If anyone gets to make her regret the day she was born, it's me."

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

"Of all the fucking assholes…That son of a bitch. I knew he was…but the whole damn Alliance? Fuck!"

Shepard shared a brief look with Liara. Her bondmate's opinion was clear. _Just give her time to let it sink in_. Shepard disagreed. Time to self-combust more like. As she rose to her feet, Shepard ignored the fact that she could clearly see Liara shaking her head.

Ashley was a human tempest in the middle of their apartment. An apt description considering her still purple hair, and the reddish cast to her cheeks. Shepard simply stood in her friend's path, hoping somehow that her mere presence would act as a stabilising influence. It was wishful thinking considering the information she'd just unloaded – that the Alliance had been responsible for holding her captive. That their motives in doing so had been anything but benevolent. Shepard's own anger was still present - albeit in the calm, almost detached manner that came from the passage of time. She'd learned to harness it in a productive direction. It was that same focus that she was hoping to bestow on Ashley.

Eventually Ash's wild gaze cleared. She focused on Shepard with disbelief clearly written on her face. "Shepard, I'm so sorry. If I'd known…"

Shepard fought the urge to shrug. She needed to stay nonchalant. The actual experience still gave her nightmares, but she refused to let it dictate her life any longer. "You weren't to know, Ash. It was a secret facility. It cost Hannah…my Mum, her career. Others…it cost their lives."

"You think I give a damn about my military career after this? They held you prisoner. You saved their collective asses and they were going to butcher you like…like you were worthless! And Kessler sanctioned this?" Ash scrubbed at her temples. "Is the whole fucking Alliance rotten to the core?"

"Not to the core, Ash, just the top," Shepard corrected, maintaining her calm. "Chop off the head, and the rest will fall apart…or at least sort itself out."

"And who's going to do that?" Ash asked. Her anger wasn't directed at Shepard, but it emerged nevertheless. "You know as well as I do that the corruption throughout Alliance will be like one of those snakes. The ones with lots of heads."

"A hydra," Liara supplied quietly. Clearly her knowledge of human mythology was superior that of the actual humans in the room. "An apt description…and undoubtedly correct."

"Hydra." Ashley tested the word on her tongue. "Even if we manage to chop off each and every one of those heads, who the hell will take their place? As much as I hate politicians, at least they claim to stand for democracy."

Shepard had never claimed to have all of the answers. Or any at all. However now more than ever, she wanted to be the one with the solution. She knew exactly how much Ash's military career meant to her. This news had brought that stability crashing down. The colour had now drained from Ash's face. Shepard bit her lip. Perhaps she'd been mistaken thinking that Ash could handle the truth so soon.

Ash sat heavily. Both of her legs were twitching slightly from a combination of exhaustion and wired nerves. Despite this, and her pallor, her gaze was fierce and direct. That was the Ash that Shepard knew.

"Honestly, Ash? I don't know." Shepard swallowed, suddenly nervous. She'd always been crap whenever it came to saying anything worthwhile. The implications of this conversation went far beyond one friend speaking to another. "I do know however that the Alliance has good people throughout the ranks. One of them is sitting in front of me."

A bitter laugh escaped Ash's lips. "Shepard…you can't tell me how you were imprisoned in a top-secret Alliance facility and expect me to keep playing soldier. It's over. As of right now, I'm an ex-marine."

The words emerged from Ash's lips with a finality that depressed Shepard. She stood. Moved to Ash and knelt before her like a supplicant.

"You need to trust me, Ash. Trust me when I say that you have to stay where you are. If we're going to have any chance of salvaging the Alliance, then we're going to need the change to happen from within."

Ashley was suspicious. "Who is this 'we' you keep talking about?"

Shepard floundered as her mind worked. "Um-"

"Evan will not admit it." It was Liara who answered the question. "But saying 'we' is her way of avoiding the truth. For all her stubborn avoidance, she actually means 'I.' Even if she does not fully accept it."

It was Shepard's turn to feel the colour drain from her cheeks. Under no circumstances had she meant to say 'I,' especially not in relation to guiding the future of humanity. She had very clearly said 'we.' Whom exactly she meant by that 'we', she had no idea. Regardless of the outcome of her conversation with Ash, Shepard knew she needed to have some pointed words with her bondmate.

Ash looked between Liara and Shepard. "Is that true, Shepard?"

Shepard drew in a breath. No. Not in a million years. She glanced at Liara. Her bondmate offered up a small nod of encouragement and she fought the urge to glare petulantly. She returned her focus to Ashley. Managed to appear suitably earnest. What was this mythical figurehead supposed to look like? Saint-like and perfect no doubt. Shepard knew she was neither. She settled for honesty.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing. This person…this leader, I don't want it to be me. But I also don't want to spend the rest of my life hiding away, feeling guilty that I could have done something to prevent some of the worst decisions ever made on behalf of humanity. To have any chance of succeeding, I need people I can trust. I'm sorry to have put you in this position, Ash."

Ash swallowed visibly. "A part of me wants to keep my head down and just do my job. I'm not a revolutionary, Shepard, but you know I'd follow you to hell and back."

Shepard stood, reaching out to draw Ash up along with her. She placed a hand firmly on Ash's shoulder. "I don't need you to follow, Captain Williams, I need you to lead. You're an Alliance hero, people respect you. Even if they don't know you, they still trust you because of what you represent. You're one of them."

Ash let out a shuddering breath. "No pressure. Couldn't you have found someone else?"

"You know as well as I do that there's no one else. Even if there were, I would want you."

"So there's no real plan other than a vague sense that you know what you have to do?" Ash asked. "Fine, I'm in, Skipper."

Shepard let the 'skipper' slide for once. She felt a surge of joy in having Ash at her side, and seeing the old fire slowly flooding her friend's gaze. For the first time, she began to believe she was this person that Liara claimed. What was it she had called her? An architect of fate? Shepard had laughed at the time. Now it was beginning to make a strange sort of sense.

"Do you want to stick around? Chakwas would have my hide if I even suggested sparring, but we could…chat?"

Ash uttered a polite laugh. "You're losing it, Shepard, Marines don't chat. I'd like that…but I need to start putting in some decent shifts. You of all people should know how important it is to fool the crew into thinking you've got your shit together. And I have a feeling we're going to need as many of them as possible on our side."

* * *

 

Some hours later, the familiar smells and sounds of the armoury enveloped Ash like a protective blanket. It felt as though she had retreated to this haven too often over the past week. She had since come to the very simple realisation that she felt more comfortable in the armoury than anywhere else on the ship.

This included her own quarters. Even though they'd been hers for months, she still felt as though they belonged to Shepard.

Ash resumed work on the Locust SMG that had been lying forgotten in one of the lockers. She had no idea how it remained on board, especially during the Alliance retrofit. It certainly wasn't standard Alliance issue, but Ash thought the light weapon would be suitable for Traynor. If she could dampen the recoil slightly whilst increasing its hitting power, it would be the perfect complement the Chief's tech powers.

She had hoped that the intricate task would keep both her fingers and her mind busy. At first it worked. She settled into a rhythm. A rhythm where the work became a balm. The quiet in her mind was a kind of victory. So long as she didn't let her thoughts stray.

A sharp, sudden noise startled her out of her concentration. A tool falling to the deck. Ash placed the Locust down on the workbench as she listened. She hadn't noticed Cortez at his station, which was slightly odd. She decided to investigate.

With the lights dimmed for the night cycle, Ash could only make out shapes at first. Shapes writhing slightly. Two bodies moving against one another. Her gaze adjusted. Cortez and Fleeting were locked together, kissing in an unhurried manner. One of Cortez's hands cupped the back of Fleeting's neck tenderly. Ash's initial embarrassment gave way to an irrational surge of anger.

"Lieutenants!" Her voice was a harsh interruption to the gentle moment. The two men sprang apart with suitably horrified expressions on their faces. "This is an active area of the ship, and unless I'm mistaken at least one of you is on duty."

"Yes, ma'am. I am," Cortez admitted swiftly.

"Consider yourselves both on report." While that in itself was a fair punishment, Ash felt the need to go one step further. "And you're both on KP for a week. Dismissed, Fleeting."

"Understood, ma'am," Fleeting said with a nervous nod.

Cortez risked giving the other man a reassuring smile before he left. He turned his attention to his CO. "I'm sorry, Captain Williams. The Lieutenant had just finished his shift and – it's no excuse. It won't happen again."

With her anger fast dissipating, Ash was struck instead by the glaring hypocrisy in her actions. Her own liaison in the shuttle bay during the war had not stopped at kissing. She tried to keep her guilt from her face as she met Cortez's gaze. "Apology accepted, Cortez. And the KP stands, but I'm not putting either of you on report. Consider it a Captain's prerogative."

"Ma'am, with all due respect-"

"Don't pull that one on me, Cortez. Just get back to work before I give you a month's worth of KP for being a soppy idiot." Ash paused, studied Cortez's earnest expression. She suddenly regretted everything she had said. _You could've turned a blind eye_ , Ash thought. _Just walked away and let them have their moment_. Especially considering Cortez's history. If anyone deserved to find a slice of happiness in the wake of the war, it was Steve Cortez. "How long has this been going on?"

"Are you ordering me to tell you, ma'am?" Cortez asked, a defensive note to his voice.

"I'm asking as your friend."

He relaxed noticeably. "About a month."

"And it's good?"

Cortez nodded. A smile even crept onto his face. "Yes, it's good. I thought after Robert…well, suffice to say I'm happy."

Ash smiled in response, trying to make it reach her eyes. Cortez was a good man. Exactly the sort she needed. The sort Shepard needed. She returned to her work bench still feeling as though she had been unreasonable. As she resumed work on the Locust, she found she no longer minded her straying thoughts. Instead she recalled the earnest expression on Shepard's face from earlier that day. Ash couldn't contain a swell of pride in response to the memory. The thought that Shepard – the sole survivor of Akuze, first human SpecTRe, saviour of the Citadel and the Galaxy's Hero – placed so much faith in her made everything else seem trivial in comparison. Ash didn't care if it was sacrilegious to say so, she believed in Shepard and what she stood for. It gave her something to focus on.

Enough at least to take her mind off the mess she'd made of her relationship with Miranda Lawson.

* * *

 

As Myke neared Samara's apartment, she cast a quick glance at her chrono to find that she was nearly two hours late for her lesson. A small part of her felt some guilt, but mostly she was resentful. Samara had already given her several lectures on the importance of good timekeeping and she had no desire to sit through another one. Myke hesitated for some time before she announced her presence. Weighing up the boredom of listening to a reprimand from Samara over the consequences of not turning up at all. Myke asked herself whether it would be that bad if Samara refused to tutor her. Her guilt started to weigh a little heavier. She felt ungrateful. The last remaining justicar was spending some of her precious remaining time teaching someone who couldn't care less. Hadn't Samara mentioned something about daughters of her own? Surely her time would be better spent with them.

Myke was hardly surprised when Samara opened the door within moments of the buzzer. There was no trace of anger on the justicar's face, just the same expressionless calm she always maintained. It was infuriating. Not for the first time Myke wished Samara would display some sort of emotion. Even if it was anger directed at her, she didn't care.

"Two hours have passed since our scheduled appointment," Samara pointed out as Myke entered the apartment.

"I know," Myke replied petulantly, turning to face Samara. "Doesn't it piss you off? Wasting your time waiting for me?"

"I do not waste my time, Mycea," Samara replied. "I might however speculate that is what you have been doing. Unless of course you judged the reasons that kept you to be more important than keeping your promise to arrive at the scheduled time."

_Yes_ , Myke thought. Infinitely so. However, the subject was hardly one she wanted to discuss with Samara. She remained cagey. "I needed to speak to Shepard."

"Shepard is currently engaged in conversations of great importance," Samara replied.

Myke rolled her eyes. Of course Samara knew what Shepard was doing.

Samara continued. "I have already spoken about the need to employ solid judgement in determining whether your needs outweigh the needs of others."

"Fine, I get it. I'm an inconvenience. Can we just get this over with?"

Without being asked, Myke took up her position on the floor. She folded her legs beneath her in the posture which had become almost second nature. Samara remained unmoving, regarding Myke as though she was an interesting specimen to be studied.

"Although it would detract from the purpose of our time together, I feel compelled to ask whether I can offer any assistance."

Myke tried to suppress the resulting laugh. It emerged instead as a loud snort. Samara remained undeterred. The resulting stare was decidedly unnerving. Even more unnerving, was the ridiculous idea forming in Myke's head. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. As so many people were fond of reminding her, Samara was almost one thousand years old. Not to mention the fact that she had daughters. Surely she knew stuff. Provided Myke could stomach asking her, Samara was perfect.

"I need some advice," Myke began hesitantly. "I want to get to know someone a little better,"

Samara's expression didn't change. "Surely talking to this individual would be the most appropriate course of action."

_This was a bad idea_. "I've talked to her! I mean, the talking part I can do. I don't know how to take it to the next step." Myke felt her cheeks grow warm beneath Samara's unwavering gaze. This was possibly the worst idea she'd ever had…and that included marching into Afterlife to confront Aria. "Um…the physical contact sort of stuff."

"I have not been intimate with another individual for centuries," Samara replied with blatant honestly. "If I desired to offer you advice on this subject, it would be ill-suited to your needs. You were right to seek out Shepard."

There was no going back. Myke had recovered from her initial embarrassment and she needed answers. Sooner rather than later. "Shepard is too busy. You've got plenty of time. You just sit around all day meditating. And you did ask!"

Myke stared expectantly at the older asari. After what seemed like an eternity, Samara acquiesced. She crossed the floor and sat down in, much as she would during one of their lessons. Myke swallowed nervously.

"Everything I say is based solely on observation, granted I am more formidable than most in that respect, but you still must promise to consider my words carefully and not act impetuously as you are prone to do-" Myke opened her mouth to protest but was silenced with a stern glare. "-I will not proceed until I am satisfied you understand."

Myke offered up a hasty nod. "Yes…of course I'll listen to what you say." Lip service. She just wanted the advice.

"The individual in question is another asari?"

"No. A human." Myke paused, wondering exactly how much she ought to divulge. Then she sighed and took the plunge. Full disclosure. "It's one of the _Normandy_ crew. Sam…Samantha Traynor. We've been spending time together - playing chess, eating food, talking…I think I want more, but I can't tell whether Sam does. Without making an idiot of myself, how am I supposed to find out?"

"You have failed to consider the obvious factors that would preclude such a relationship from the outset," Samara replied immediately, without any restraint. Myke sat with a stunned expression on her face as the justicar continued, "Your behavioural patterns fit that of a young human, I believe the correct term is something called 'teenage.' Samantha Traynor is an adult and therefore would not consider you to be an appropriate partner for a sexual encounter."

"I'm ninety-six!" Myke protested vehemently.

"A child," Samara pointed out in an unsympathetic tone. "My advice would be to wait several decades-"

"She's a human! She's not going to wait two years for me let alone twenty. Samara, please!" Myke's eyes were wide and imploring, possibly even a little pathetic, but she didn't care. "C'mon, you've seen her, she's…well, she's beautiful, smart…she's…everything!" When Myke paused to draw a breath she discovered her heart was beating erratically and she felt slightly sick to her stomach. She then realised that her outburst did not help her case in proving she wasn't a child. She squared her shoulders. "I suppose you're just going to tell me that someone else will come along eventually, that I'll have other opportunities to fall in love. Is that what you told your daughters?"

Myke bit her lip. Did that emerge as callously as it sounded in her head? Even she knew she'd gone too far. She expected anger, but instead she was shocked to see the older asari's face soften noticeably.

"Even in a thousand year life span it is a rare and treasured thing," Samara said softly. "It has the potential to bring as much pain as pleasure. As all three of my daughters discovered to great cost."

"But…are they happy now?" Myke asked in a small voice.

"Two are dead," Samara explained.

Myke ducked her head. Felt utterly wretched. "I'm sorry, Samara. For what I said…and for your daughters."

"The sorrow is not yours to bear. It is mine."

"And the third?" Myke asked carefully. Her curiosity compelled her to ask. "Surely you would want to spend your time with her?"

"We are in regular contact. However it was not appropriate for me to remain at the monastery and Falere has proven herself to be extremely capable."

Myke frowned. "Monastery?"

"All three of my daughters manifested as Ardat-Yakshi," Samara said without qualm.

It was a jaw-dropping admission. Myke's mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments, but all that emerged was a series of nonsensical sounds. As the admission registered fully, it both explained everything and nothing about the justicar. A second apology died on Myke's lips even though she seemed to be trapped in a chronic cycle of saying the wrong thing.

Three daughters. All Ardat-Yakshi. Everything that had happened to Myke in her short life, paled in comparison. Her mother had often used stories about the Demons of the Night Winds to terrify her into good behaviour. Myke understood them only as monsters, in every sense of the word. She wanted to know more, but couldn't phrase a question. To some extent, Myke had even forgotten the purpose of the conversation. When she remembered, she couldn't help but feel as though her whole dilemma with Sam was trivial. Eventually she settled for silence, waiting expectantly for Samara to continue.

"I believe my first advice is your most appropriate course of action. Speak to Samantha Traynor. Tell her your mind. Be honest. I cannot guarantee that you will not encounter pain, but you will know where you stand."

Myke drew in a deep breath. "That's easier said than done."

"Agreed, but so are most things that are worth doing. And considering the importance you place on having sexual relations, I would consider you to feel that way."

"Well, yes…maybe not the most important thing," Myke spluttered. "I mean, it's up there of course…but I've realised that there are other important things in life."

It was Samara's turn to wait expectantly.

"Like your lessons. This…learning from you, it's important to me too." Myke surprised herself with her honesty.

She thought perhaps that she saw the faintest trace of a smile tilt Samara's lips. However she supposed it was entirely in her imagination. Her eyes slid closed in tandem with Samara's. She did her best to concentrate on the justicar's words, as opposed to thinking about what she might say to Sam Traynor.

* * *

 

Captain Tasha Kurin knew that she should be celebrating with the rest of her crew, but she couldn't bring herself to share their carefree abandon. Of course she was undeniably relieved that the _Pserimos_ had finally shown up on Omega. Although the ship seemed only a few holes short of being consigned to the scrap yard, her crew had escaped largely unscathed. Her first command was a qualified success. The Kurin name would guarantee that she received some minor decoration for her troubles. It might possibly even be enough to get some of the elder Kurins to take their heads out of their asses for a moment and take notice.

However Kurin felt nothing in response – at least nothing she ought to have been feeling. She'd lost a comrade. Niata Theran. A maiden almost as young as Kurin herself. As her sisters celebrated with all the drinks and flesh that Afterlife had to offer, Theran's body lay in a coffin in the _Normandy's_ hold. Someone else had to make the toast when she couldn't bring herself to speak for fear of choking on her own words. This only heightened as she listened to the praise of her crew. It was as sincere and heartfelt as it could be coming from commandos. One of her sisters earned a riotous laugh when she commented that it was Kurin's ass that had won the mission.

_My ass almost cost us this mission_ , Kurin thought bitterly. She took a small sip of the drink she'd been nursing for the better part of an hour and forced a laugh of her own in an effort to blend in.

All too easily, her thoughts drifted away from a present that she was barely invested in. Drifted towards the human that was so adept at ruining her life.

Goddess-damn Williams.

Kurin couldn't deny that a part of her had held self-serving aspirations in regards to their continuing friendship. Though she had seen Miranda Lawson's picture, the love-cursed fool in her dared hope that Ashley would change her mind. That flame had been brutally extinguished in the elevator. The embers scattered to the winds.

"Captain?"

Kurin glanced up to find two of her commandos - Cyrene and Xana - standing over her.

"Can we have a word in private?" Cyrene asked. Commandos were notorious for showing little deference to their superiors when off-duty. Both wore large grins and were most likely drunk.

Kurin shrugged, rose to her feet. Against her better judgement she allowed the two commandos to lead her down into one of the passages that seemed to thread their way beneath Afterlife. The pair made no effort to stop, apparently knowing exactly where they were going.

Exasperated, Kurin eventually reached out and grabbed Cyrene by her arm, whirling the commando around to face her. "I thought you wanted a word?"

"Trust me, Tasha, this is better than words," Cyrene replied. "And Athame knows you need it more."

"You think I give a shit about Athame? I'm not going anywhere until you make some sense," Kurin demanded.

"Permission to speak freely, Captain?" Xana asked.

"We're off duty. Say your piece so I can get back to my fucking drink."

Xana continued, "Fine. Your infatuation with that human was cute to start with. I don't get it personally but whatever tickles your azure. But it's now gone past cute. It's damn ridiculous and you're embarrassing the whole damn unit with all this moping crap."

"Tasha, we're friends," Cyrene continued. "Trust me when I say you'll thank us later."

"Do I even want to ask?"

Cyrene and Xana shared a look before they each seized Kurin by an arm and began dragging her towards a non-descript door. Still holding onto Kurin like a prize, Xana rapped three times on the door and a small slot promptly opened. A pair of narrowed, yellow eyes glared back out at them.

"On Omega the sun only shines out of Aria's ass," Xana said with a cocky grin.

As soon as the door opened in response, Kurin felt a wave of dread wash over her. She realised exactly what kind of establishment she had been dragged to. She was trying to turn around to escape when Cyrene propelled her forward.

"Goddess. I can't be in here. If my mother found out…or my grandmother!" Kurin offered up a prayer that the Matriarch never did or it wouldn't just be her career on the line, it would be her life.

"Grow a quad, Tasha." Xana was unmoved by her protest. "No one in your entire Goddess-damned family is going to find out about this. We're going to be far too busy to pay any attention to what you're doing anyway. Now go do us all a favour and fuck someone…or something."

Kurin watched with trepidation as both Cyrene and Xana left her standing just inside the threshold. Behind her, the door slammed closed with finality. She stared at it longingly for a long moment, until she realised the Krogan at the door was staring at her with a wide grin on his face.

"You've got the right idea," he said, pausing to lick his lips. "Why bother with what's in there when you can have a piece of this."

When his hands went to his codpiece, Kurin turned and fled further into the club.

Her fellow commandos had already disappeared. Kurin was relieved. They were sisters in everything, but she had no desire to mix work with pleasure. It was one of the most fervent pieces of advice her mother had given her, and one of the few she actually heeded.

_If my grandmother could see me now_. Kurin could already picture the horrified expression on the stately features of the Matriarch, head of House Kurin and one of the most unpleasant individuals Kurin knew. It was a sudden desire to inflict such shame that drove her forward. She was tired of her entire world being wrapped up in her family – every promotion, every achievement. Kurin needed to be able to live for herself. However, as she moved through into the next room, she wasn't sure that this was the best approach.

The actual décor was almost so plain as to be completely non-descript. It mostly consisted of a great deal of leather. No one inside was paying a great deal of attention to their surroundings, other than as a prop for the naked body writhing beneath them. Kurin didn't know where to look. Every which way she looked there were more bodies – mostly naked, almost all engaged in some form of sexual act. She was glad of the lack of lighting, knowing that her cheeks would have darkened to a deep shade of purple. Although she was no innocent maiden, Kurin's sexual adventures had been limited to one person at a time.

_Except for that one time at university_. Even that had all been childish stuff compared to this.

Kurin's gaze fell on an asari being fucked from behind by a Turian. Any cries coming from her throat were muffled by the cock being rammed against the back of her throat by a second Turian. It looked as though it would be all-consuming, something to lose yourself in and make you forget. Kurin stared, but felt no corresponding twinge of desire.

"Hallex?"

"Huh?" Kurin turned to find another maiden staring at her. The maiden stuck out her tongue. A shiny red pill was resting on the tip. She shook her head. Off-duty or not, there were lines not to be crossed. "Um, no thanks."

The maiden shrugged and moved on to find a more willing customer. Kurin found herself a dark corner in which to stand. She didn't want to be a voyeur, she just wanted to collect her thoughts before she decided what she did want. One thing she already knew, she was not going to thank Xana and Cyrene. If anything, both commandos had just drawn point duty…for the next several decades.

The only music in the room was the cacophony of sounds associated with sex. Grunts, cries, and noises so obscene as to be unpleasant to Kurin's hearing. Slapping, sucking. Wet. Altogether transitory. Remaining in the club had been a mistake. Regardless of what her sisters thought she needed, she knew that this wasn't it.

Kurin had made the decision to leave when cool fingers suddenly brushed against the sensitive spot at the back of her neck. The touch was so feather light it sent shivers coursing throughout her body.

"I'm not looking for-"

She was silenced with a hiss. The pressure on her nape intensified gradually, becoming more deliberate whilst remaining tender. Lips followed. Chasing cool with blistering heat. Kurin heard the soft moan before she realised that the sound came from her own mouth. On some level she wanted to recoil away from the touch. On another she craved it. Shamelessly, Kurin leaned back until she felt a pair of firm tits through her shirt. Another thrill coursed down her spine.

While the lips remained on her neck, the fingers moved. Trailing the length of her bare arms, peeling her shirt away from her skin to snake upwards and find her own, unencumbered breasts. _Goddess_. Hadn't she been about to leave? Kurin was incapable of rational thought. Her sensory self was focused on being touched in the most exquisite manner. Gently, and yet with an intense possessiveness that set her heart racing. One hand remained massaging her nipples, while the other drew a straight line down her body and slipped beneath her waistband without pause. Kurin was soaked through, even before she felt a firm touch against her centre.

The other sounds faded into the background even as her own moans added to the chorus of lust. She now found herself wholly pressed against the body behind her, undulating with need. Her legs were spread wide, even as it felt as though her knees would buckle beneath her weight. Strong, lavish strokes fuelled the fire in her gut. The world was broken down into elements – the kisses on her neck, fingers pinching her taut nipples, and the fingers working between her legs.

Perhaps later she would feel ashamed at having been fucked in such a manner, and being brought to release so quickly. However, at that time, none of that mattered. She was too far gone. Too close. When the hand between her legs stopped momentarily, Kurin whimpered with need. It was only a change of position. A palm pressed against her centre so as to manoeuvre two fingers inside her. Each thrust sent a delicious ripple coursing through her body.

"Fuck." Kurin hadn't realised how close she was. Her hips bucked forward. Seeking. The last series of thrusts came hard and fast. Almost brutally so. A blinding rhythm that brought her to peak and sent her crashing down over the edge. "Fuck!"

Kurin shook violently in the stranger's arms as she rode out her orgasm. Mercifully, the thrusts stopped and she was able to reclaim a sense of perspective. What the hell had just happened? Someone continued to support her from behind, cradling her body as it trembled, as her breaths came in deep gasps. She didn't know how anything could feel so intimate and yet crude at the same time. Hot breaths still fell on her neck. Kurin turned her head, searching for that heat. The lips were every bit as hot against her own as they had been against her neck.

"Goddess," Kurin whispered, drawing back.

"I have been known to go by that name."

She recognised the voice at the same time that she drew back far enough to make out the amused expression belonging to Aria T'Loak. Kurin's knees finally buckled, but she was prevented from falling by an arm wrapped around her waist.

"Aria." The name emerged like a strangled croak. Kurin lashed out, trying to get free. Aria released her and she stumbled like a drunk. "What the hell kind of game are you playing?"

Aria propped one hand on her hip. Her gaze was mocking…and she was stark naked. Kurin stared goggled-eyed, unable to take her eyes off the Queen of Omega. Aria wore nudity like the finest gown, only it was infinitely more pleasing to the eye…and far more dangerous.

"You seem to know the game well enough," Aria taunted her. "Although that was a mere taste. An exercise in restraint on my part."

The spell broke. Awareness flooded her. Sounds, smells, and the sight of Aria T'Loak standing over her as though she was some prize. Kurin's mouth opened, but she could think of nothing to say. What words would even make sense?

Much as she had done during her previous run in with Aria, Kurin fled without a glance back. Although this time she was uncomfortably aware of everything that had happened. It had been… _Perfect_. Or at least it would have been perfect had it not been the Queen of Omega doing the giving. The worst thing wasn't even that she had been used so blatantly, it was how badly Kurin wanted it to happen again.

Kurin pushed her way out into the corridor beyond the private club and drew in deep, gulping breaths. It was the stale air of Omega, but it would have to do.

_If my grandmother found out about this…_


	38. Where do Marshmallows Come From?

**London, Earth**

"Fucking sanctimonious asshole."

Lucy looked up from her work to find Susannah watching the wallscreen whilst lifting weights. On screen, a Westerlund reporter was dutifully covering Fleet Admiral Kessler's latest rousing speech to the masses. She hadn't been listening as she tried to concentrate on her new material she'd been sent from Alliance HQ. Kessler's speech was probably something they'd already heard a hundred times before. The same 'humanity standing together' bullshit. That the Alliance was working for the benefit of humanity during reconstruction. As far as Lucy was concerned, no amount of speeches could disguise the fact that they were all living under a military dictatorship. A tolerably benevolent one, but a dictatorship nevertheless. Anderson's persecution had brought that into stark reality. It made her head hurt and she turned her attention back to her material.

A small sigh escaped Lucy's lips. She missed her old position as a lowly intelligence officer. Hell, a part of her even missed the brief time she'd spent in the infantry. Everything had changed in the wake of the war. At the point at which she had helped Shepard to fire the Crucible, she'd forfeited all rights to a normal career. As soon as she had recovered from her injuries, someone at the top had decided to second her to the Alliance's ever-expanding PR Division. That's how it had remained ever since – an endless succession of speeches, appearances and, more often than not, boredom.

"Why do I even bother watching this shit?" Susannah muttered, drawing Lucy's attention again.

With her attention directed towards her wife, a small frown marred Lucy's brow. "Suze, those weights look too heavy. The doc told you to go easy."

That comment earned her a predictable scowl. Susannah continued working out and Lucy let the matter go. Since helping Anderson disappear, Susannah had been even more short-tempered and frustrated than usual. They'd heard nothing from Anderson or Mack. Ordinary life had returned. For Lucy this was like a comfortable blanket. Her job was boring, but it allowed her to travel and meet people. As well as giving them both a certain status. Susannah on the other hand hated suburban existence. It had been apparent for months, but Lucy couldn't see a solution. She watched the scarred skin stretch taut over Susannah's muscles and couldn't contain a slight swell of despair. Short of being able to get her wife reinstated to active duty, there was nothing Lucy could do. She turned her attention back to her material and continued reading. She'd been stuck on the same sentence for the past five minutes.

"There's something off about these briefing notes."

Lucy voiced her thoughts aloud for her own benefit, but she also hoped to catch Susannah's attention. A few moments later she heard the sound of success as the weights hit the floor. Susannah crossed the floor to stand at her side, arm resting lightly across Lucy's shoulders.

"Ick! You're all sweaty, baby."

Lucy glanced up and Susannah stole a quick kiss. "What's up, Lieutenant Park?"

"I know they've had a few personnel changes at HQ, but this is slightly unnerving. Why the hell are they trying to dredge up Turian atrocities committed during the First Contact War? It's not my area of expertise, but I wasn't aware that there were any atrocities during that War. Just a bunch of misunderstandings. And what's worse, this is approved for dissemination to school kids."

"Why don't you ask your buddy Kessler? He served during that War."

Lucy sighed in exasperation. "I've only met him a handful of times. He's always been nothing but courteous to me."

"Luce, he's a cunt. You've got this horrible affliction where you try to see the best in everyone. Everyone knows that Anderson was discharged on his orders."

"Even Anderson had no proof of that," Lucy said diplomatically.

"Not to mention Hackett's death!"

"Suze, you're not jumping on that scaremongering bandwagon. Admiral Hackett had a heart attack. Anyway, we were talking about my notes." Lucy scanned further down the material. "I can't talk to school children about asari reproduction!"

"Why the hell would you need to?" Susannah read over Lucy's shoulder. She uttered a sarcastic laugh. "Asari reproduction as a form of assimilation? C'mon, just because their kids will always be asari we're supposed to think they have the potential to take over the Galaxy? Hmmm, they say it like it's a bad thing." Susannah chuckled to herself, obviously at the thought of living in a Galaxy almost entirely populated by asari. "Luce, you can't seriously be thinking of standing in front of anyone and spouting this bullshit? How stupid do they think people are?"

"There are some impressionable people out there. I don't want to get above myself, but if I said it, there's a danger that some people might believe it."

"My wife the war hero. Don't say it then!" Susannah picked up the datapad and turned it off. "Stick to the old stuff. It was a little heavy on Shepard, but at least it was all true. Unlike that dribble."

"I'll speak to my superiors about it," Lucy announced resolutely.

Susannah kissed her on the top on her head. "Do you want me to come with you? I've seen you try to speak to your superiors before…and you're not exactly-"

"Don't you dare continue that sentence! Unless you want to find yourself sleeping on the couch indefinitely," Lucy replied hotly. With the datapad lying forgotten on the table, she rose to her feet. Despite her earlier threat, she wrapped both her arms around her wife's neck. "I can speak up for myself when I need to. Besides, it's probably just some jumped up little Terra Firma wannabe in the ranks."

"Hmm, listen to you go, Lieutenant. I'll look forward to hearing all about it. In the meantime, how about you and I try a little reproduction of our own?"

"That has got to be one of the worst lines you've ever used to try and get me into bed," Lucy pointed out with a grin. "You're just lucky I'm _really_ easy."

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

"Have you seen the footage from Nos Astra, Liara?"

Liara clearly heard Hannah Shepard's question, but she didn't answer immediately. Instead she feigned working, her fingers typing nonsensical commands into a powered down HI for the sake of keeping busy.

Of course she'd seen it. The footage was burned into her retinas. When she closed her eyes, it was all she could see. The burning buildings and body bags. Flashing security lights. It was violence on a scale not seen since the war.

Liara's response to the footage wasn't sorrow or grief, but rather the cold detachment that resulted from a plan well executed. The only emotion she felt was a vague sense of relief.

When Liara finally looked up, Hannah was staring at her expectantly. "I have. Our deception was thorough, but I had reservations that the Alliance would fall for it so completely. Clearly I underestimated their desperation."

Hannah frowned visibly. "The collateral damage was significant. The Alliance may not care that their handiwork took out dozens of innocent civilians, but we should. I thought there were measures in place to mitigate casualties?"

"The measures were adequate." Liara was unmoved by the distress in Hannah's voice. "The building itself was largely unoccupied. Unfortunately the Alliance chose to carry out the attack during early evening. The casualties were mostly pedestrians."

"Deliberately no doubt. It has caused panic on a wide scale, especially with no suspects and no apparent motive." Hannah paused momentarily, bit her lip in a habit reminiscent of her daughter. "Does Evie know?"

Although it was expected, the question was like a slap in the face. Liara swallowed. Her throat was bone dry. "Yes."

"I take it the news didn't go down well?"

"I would prefer not to discuss the matter," Liara replied. It was impossible to keep a trace of frostiness from inhabiting her voice. She hadn't expected to feel so vehemently about discussing relationship issues with her mother-in-law. It was made worse by the fact that her bondmate so closely resembled her mother. Whenever she looked at Hannah, she felt as though she was looking at an older version of Evan. "I am sorry, Hannah. It is not anything personal. I am….unaccustomed to talking about such things with anyone other than Evan."

Hannah inclined her head, a warm smile on her face. "There's no apology necessary, Liara. I understand completely. If you don't have anything else for me, I'll sign off."

"There is one thing that has crossed my mind," Liara admitted. "In light of recent events, I need to start exploring an exit strategy from Omega."

"You don't trust T'Loak not to sell you out to the Alliance?"

Liara shook her head. "No, I trust Aria implicitly in that respect. What I do not trust is Omega's isolation. Cerberus was able to take the station with relative ease. While Aria has invested a great deal in improving the station's defences, I doubt it would withstand a concentrated attack by the Alliance. If it came to that, I would prefer to be on Thessia."

"You'd take Evie to Thessia?" Hannah failed to hide her obvious surprise. "Your home?"

_Home?_ Liara had not thought of Thessia as home for some time. Now home was simply wherever Shepard was.

"It would not be a simple matter. Neither of us are in favour with Tevos, and following my mother's downfall, the T'Soni name does not carry the weight amongst Armali's Matriarch's that it once did. However the family still has significant resources, and my estate survived the war largely intact," Liara explained. It felt strange to talk of something that she had pushed to the back of her mind for so long. "I have recently appointed an old friend in charge of my affairs there. Some considerable work still needs to be done, but Evan and I will be comfortable."

Liara didn't know how to feel about returning to Thessia. The time she had spent there in the past three decades amounted to weeks at the most. Returning to the T'Soni estate would force her to confront emotions she had left buried far beneath the surface. First and foremost being the maelstrom of fear, anger and anguish associated with Benezia. Even almost four years later, Liara had still not laid that particular demon to rest. She feared that she never would.

"Are you alright, Liara?" Hannah asked suddenly. "You seem…troubled."

"I am fine," Liara was quick to reply.

"Liara," Hannah said in her best motherly voice. "I've come to know you well enough over the past months to learn a little about you, and I know when something is troubling you…or at least a certain individual is troubling you. She's my daughter, if anyone is qualified to offer advice on the subject, it's me."

Liara knew that she was far removed from Shepard family history, but she had difficulty trying to find some trace of the monster her bondmate described when talking about her mother. She liked Hannah Shepard...immensely.

"Evan was always convinced you did not know her," Liara admitted quietly. "I am beginning to believe that is not true…nor was it ever true."

Hannah sighed. "Sometimes we have to become different people for those we love…often to the point where they can no longer understand us."

Liara was about to say something in return when she heard deliberate footsteps along the corridor. A few moments later, Shepard's head peered around the door. Liara managed a smile, which was not returned.

"I was just finishing up with your mother," Liara supplied, nodding to the viewscreen.

"Hey, Mum," Shepard said as she walked forward to make herself visible.

The word had been slipping out easier of late as Shepard gradually welcomed Hannah back into her life. Usually Liara would have been pleased to see such progress. However, in that moment, the room suddenly felt much smaller with her bondmate in it.

"I'm going to need to steal her away from you," the younger Shepard continued.

"Sure thing, Evie. Bondmate trumps work."

"It's Liara we're talking about," Shepard said with a pointed glance in Liara's direction. "That's not usually the case."

"Hannah, can you and Mack analyse the rest of the data from Nos Astra?" Liara ignored her bondmate's comment. "I will…be in touch."

"Of course, Liara. My love to you both. Shepard out."

With the buffer of Hannah Shepard gone, Liara pretended to be occupied for a further minute. She already dreaded the impending conversation. Shepard's presence was difficult to ignore. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it lingered. Liara decided that she would wait for Shepard to speak on her own terms. However, less than a minute later, the silence grew unbearable. Liara whirled on her heels to find Shepard leaning against the server with her arms folded across her chest. Her own frustration fled, leaving only a faint nausea.

"Please, can we not do this?" Liara asked.

"I'm not angry at you, Li," Shepard replied softly. "I was…but no matter how angry I am, it doesn't stick, regardless of what you've done. Can you just tell me why Ilium was chosen?"

"I was unable to extract anything of great use from the Alliance spies we intercepted several weeks ago…save that they had been led to believe that you were probably on Ilium."

"Shit. I'd almost forgotten. What the hell happened to those spies?"

Liara was silent for a few moments. She drew in a breath. "They were taken care of."

It was only in hindsight that she realised how clinical her voice must sound to her bondmate. The anguished expression on Shepard's face almost broke her.

"Li…did you? No." Shepard shook her head. "Don't answer that. This isn't how I wanted anything to play out. Dozens being murdered in my place? People being manipulated. Killed on a whim?"

Liara was firm in her resolve. She squared her shoulders defiantly. "Despite all you have been through, you are heartbreakingly naïve, Evan. This is how things get done! It is how you will survive. And I will always take care of such matters…so you do not have to."

"What if I don't want you to?"

"I do not care," Liara replied bluntly.

They reached a standoff. Liara could tell Shepard was struggling to keep her temper in check. She was terrified of what that anger might mean for their relationship, but she knew that, even if she had the opportunity, she would not do a single thing differently. After losing Shepard twice, she was literally prepared to do anything to ensure her safety.

Shepard stared. Liara forced herself to meet it without wavering. It was only at that point that she noticed something else burning in Shepard's eyes alongside the anger. Something fierce. It wasn't until Shepard surged forward that Liara realised it was love. Seconds later she was enveloped in a fierce embrace, which she returned with equal ferocity. Liara buried her face in Shepard's neck, her nose brushing the salty residue of a workout.

"I love you, Li," Shepard whispered. "It kills me to think of you making those sort of decisions on my behalf. From now on, we make them together. Anything, it doesn't matter. If it involves a life, then it's not inconsequential. I don't want you to carry that sort of weight alone."

Liara kissed the salty skin beneath her lips. "When you spoke to Ashley the other day, you were serious?"

"At the time I was making up whatever bullshit came into my head," Shepard replied wryly. "Now, I realise I meant every word. I love the solitude we've shared over the past months. I love keeping house with you. Not so much the boredom part, definitely having sex at random times of the day." Liara murmured appreciatively in response as Shepard continued, "But I'll never be content in my life, not as long as I know that things aren't right. We didn't murder those people on Ilium, but you can be damn sure I'll make whoever did do it pay."

They kissed, a mutual affirmation of everything they had said. Tender, yet possessive. When Liara drew back and stared deep into her love's gaze, she was struck by a sudden thought that made her entire body tremble.

_Is it wrong for two individuals to wield so much power?_ The Shepard and the Shadow Broker. Between them, they had the power to shape the Galaxy. Then Shepard's mouth curled into a slight grin and the moment was lost. They were just lovers again.

"What are you thinking about, Liara T'Soni?"

"I love you too, Evan," Liara kissed the tip of Shepard's nose emphatically. "But when have you ever kept house?"

* * *

 

Even after weeks on Omega, Sam still couldn't get used to the place. On the surface it was brutish, ugly, and hostile – especially the inhabitants. Everything seemed to be built for function over aesthetics. That wasn't even getting started on the foul smell that permeated the air. For all that, Omega held surprises – both in terms of sights and its denizens. Sam was currently observing two of its finest. The view above the docks was still as breath-taking as the first time she had seen it. The colours, the precipitous drop, and the delicate dance of ships below.

And then there was Myke.

She found the young asari in her favourite spot, sitting precariously near the edge. True to form she was eating, shovelling an unidentified substance into her mouth from a large box. As Sam approached, she realised that an unconscious smile had spread across her face. As she had realised from their very first meeting, Myke was altogether fascinating. Sam had never met someone with such a laidback attitude to life. However it was confusing as it was refreshing. Myke was almost impossible to read when it mattered most. Although the young asari was open and friendly, she simply didn't flirt. _Or she just doesn't find you attractive_ , Sam pointed out to herself.

After staring for far too long, Sam finally jolted to her senses and made herself known.

"Hey you."

Myke jumped slightly. When she turned around there was a guilty expression fixed on her face. "Sam…hey!" She then glanced apologetically at her food. "I was trying to wait…but the smell kind of got to me. Sorry. I hope yours isn't cold."

"I'm sure it's fine." Sam accepted the container from Myke and took a seat of her own. She suppressed a slight rush of vertigo and concentrated on Myke instead of the drop. "I've developed a newfound appreciation for food since meeting you."

Myke paused eating. She looked slightly dubious. "Is that a good thing?"

Sam laughed. "It is a good thing." A mouth-watering smell greeted her when she opened the box. "This looks great."

"Tastes pretty good too," Myke replied. She stared thoughtfully at her food for a moment. "Not sure what it is though."

Despite Myke's last comment, Sam tucked into the contents of the box with apparent relish. It did in fact taste heavenly, and was far better than standard rations aboard the _Normandy_. Not that she was overly hungry. Eating was something to do, a means of keeping herself busy as opposed to staring blatantly at her companion. It was difficult when Myke was only a few feet away. Sam noticed that the young asari had finished her food and was staring out at the docks with a pensive expression on her face. Eventually, Sam forgot about eating altogether. The food was nice…but it wasn't that nice.

"What are you thinking about?" Sam asked, hoping it wasn't too forward of her to ask.

Myke grinned awkwardly and shook her head. "Nothing really, just…stuff. Stupid questions mostly."

"Stuff you want to ask me?" Sam turned on her seat, facing Myke.

She hoped that Myke would follow suit, but instead the asari remained staring straight ahead.

"Maybe," Myke offered cryptically.

"You know you can ask me anything. I guarantee I won't find it stupid. My Dad always said that there are no stupid questions, only stupid answers." Sam laughed to herself to hide her nerves. "It kinda backfired on him though, I was that annoying kid who asked questions nonstop. Where do marshmallows come from? What is infinity? How can Schrödinger's cat be alive and dead?"

"What's a cat?"

"Small, furry animal. Some humans keep them as pets. I guess if they were on Omega they would be considered a food group by certain sections of society." Sam realised she was talking too much. "It's not important. I was just illustrating that I was a precocious little shit when I was younger."

"Do I…do I seem young to you, Sam?" Myke asked suddenly.

Sam tried to keep a small frown from appearing on her face. "Um, I really don't know. I guess this is when you tell me you're twice my age."

"I'm ninety-six," Myke replied hesitantly.

Sam fought the urge to let out a low whistle. While she knew that the years weighed differently for asari, she could only comprehend it from the point of view of her own culture. In human terms, Myke was almost four times her age. Yet it never felt like that. Spending time with the asari, being around her, Sam felt as though she could relax and simply be herself. Not Sam Traynor the badass marine, or the bright Operations Chief, just Sam the girl. As she was thinking, Myke stood and began pacing with some urgency.

"I know what you're going to say, I'm just a kid-"

"Um, that's not-"

"-but hear me out, please?"

"-what I was going to say, but…yeah. Of course."

Myke squared her shoulders and finally met Sam's gaze directly. Her dark eyes were shining with determination. "I'll admit I am young…and there's a whole galaxy of stuff that I don't know the first thing about. I don't know what a cat is…or a mass…mellow, and I don't know a Goddess-damned thing about relationships, but Shepard told me the story of how she fell in love with Liara. She didn't 'fall in love' at all. She said it was like being hit over the head with a baseball bat – I dunno what that is either, but it sounds serious…and painful. A lot like what happened to me when you walked out of the _Normandy's_ medbay."

"Seeing me was…painful?" Sam was reeling.

"Honestly? Yes. Because you were there, perfect, and probably not even going to give me the time of day. Then you were polite…and kind…and it was painful because I knew you'd never feel the same way about me."

Sam swallowed. Her throat was dry. "You never asked."

"I couldn't. I was scared…of it hurting even more. But I realised that it hurt more not to ask." Myke shook her head. "Shit, in my head I imagined sounding better…more confident, but I guess I'm always going to be a failure," Myke said with her eyes downcast. "I'm sorry, Sam. Just forget this stupid conversation happened."

As Myke turned away, Sam was finally jolted into action. She stood and reached out to grab Myke gently by the wrist. The asari stopped, and turned to look at Sam with a wretched expression on her face. Sam's lips kept wanting to curl upwards. "Myke…you never asked."

"What?" Myke whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

"You never asked whether I feel the same way about you," Sam pointed out. The stupid smile refused to go away.

"Um, no…I guess I thought it was pointless." Myke swallowed visibly. Hope started to take hold in her eyes. "Do you? Feel the same way about me?"

"Yes, you ninny," Sam said breathlessly. She remembered that she was holding Myke's wrist and shifted her grip so that their fingers were entwined instead. "Why else would I have eaten my own body weight in noodles?"

Myke was clearly torn between grinning and frowning. "You don't like noodles?"

"Not as much as I like you," Sam admitted with a laugh.

Sam then used her grip on Myke's hand to draw the asari closer. If she had occasionally fantasised about being with an asari after watching one too many vids, she discovered that the reality was something else altogether. She stared at their hands, marvelling at Myke's skin tone alongside her own. Shyly, she stared at Myke's face, tracing with her eyes every curve of the vivid pink markings. Sam took a hesitant step forward, seeking the contact that she craved. With achingly slow, considered movements, their bodies eventually slotted together perfectly. Her heartbeat quickened when she felt the rapid rise and fall of Myke's chest against her own.

"You're trembling," Myke whispered.

"Am I?" Sam asked.

With it pointed out, she was now aware of the fact that she was shaking like a leaf. She hovered on the verge of pulling away in embarrassment when Myke settled one hand lightly against the small of her back. The other hand rested in a gentle touch on Sam's hip.

"I haven't kissed anyone in a very long time," Sam eventually admitted in a weak voice.

"If it makes you feel better I've never kissed anyone. So, if you're crap, I won't know," Myke replied with a nervous laugh.

Sam responded with a laugh of her own, but the quip did not assuage her fears. If anything, she felt worse. Her stomach churned as though threatening to expunge its contents all over her potential lover. Her entire body thrummed with a vexing combination of desire and anxiety.

Finally there was nothing left to do except commit everything she had to the kiss. Sam panicked. _Holy crap_ , she thought. _I've forgotten how to kiss_. All rationale knowledge fled from her addled brain. Anything remotely resembling a clue, was gone. _Breathe, Sam_. _You've got this. Don't think…just do._

With the gentlest of touches, Sam cupped Myke's cheek. The asari's skin was cool to the touch. Myke was grinning like an idiot. Sam swiped her thumb gently over the lips she was about to claim. They were soft, parting eagerly beneath her touch.

Sam closed her eyes and leaned in. A myriad of sensations overwhelmed her in that moment. She inhaled. Myke smelled of noodles and jasmine. Their lips came together. A jolt cascaded throughout Sam's body, sending tingles across her lips and deep in the pit of her stomach. With each successive caress, her panic eroded. Eventually it disappeared completely, replaced by a confidence born of desire and need. Myke's lips moved beneath her own, responding to each subtle movement. Not usually one for taking control, Sam felt a delicious thrill as she guided the asari in her arms with subtle touches and changes in tempo. For a brief moment, her tongue darted between Myke's lips. Myke's mouth was warm, inviting. Sam sought out Myke's tongue and teased it with the length of her own. Myke shivered in response, her hands clutching desperately at the back of Sam's shirt.

The touch reminded Sam that she was moving too fast. She felt her arousal and the need to sate it, but it was too soon. Tenderly, she extricated herself from the kiss. Several gentle pecks promised more to come, but for now she needed to give them both time to process. And, despite the need, sex on a dirty ledge high above Omega's docks wasn't what Sam wanted. For herself or for her girlfriend. She drew back, only just realising that Myke was fractionally taller and there were flecks of violet in her dark eyes. And Sam thought she was gorgeous. _Girlfriend? Too soon?_

Myke's poise had disappeared altogether. The smile on her face was tremulous and giddy. "Kissing…is even better than being shot."

Sam laughed. "I should bloody well hope so."

"I think we should probably kiss again," Myke said with a mischievous grin on her face. "You need some practice, you really are a bit crap."

Sam raised her eyebrows playfully. "Oh, I'm crap am I?"

"Utterly crap," Myke confirmed. "Now shut up and kiss me again."

* * *

 

**Vancouver, Earth**

If there was one thing Kessler loathed more than any other, it was a flock of mindless sheep. He sat, drummed his fingers on the edge of the table, and fixed a bored expression on his face as he scanned the circular table in one long stare. He was supposed to be amongst colleagues, but not one of the other Heads of Staff, nor their underlings, inspired an iota of confidence. These were the men and women who held the future of humanity in the palms of their hands, and they were wasting their time in a pointless scapegoating exercise.

"Are you admitting that you do not know the current whereabouts of Captain Williams and the _Normandy_?" Admiral Carol Vogel asked with derision clearly evident in her voice.

"No," Kessler replied through gritted teeth. "What I am saying is that I do not have to disclose to this Committee the whereabouts of those Fleet captains who are currently engaged in covert operations."

"So you are refusing to tell us?" Vogel pressed.

_Yes, you pencil-pushing bitch_ , Kessler thought irritably. "My hands are tied by regulation, not out of any desire to mislead the Committee. I assure you that Captain Williams is engaged in operations that are essential to our reconstruction efforts."

"And yet you cannot disclose details of a single mission?" General Jason Durrant went as far as to thump his considerable fist on the table.

_Stupid fat fuck_ , Kessler didn't offer the man the courtesy of a reply.

"Admiral," Vogel leaned forward in her chair and clasped her hands as though delivering an edict. "It is the decision of this Committee that the _Normandy_ , with Captain Williams at the helm, return to the Sol System and reengage with their primary mission. We have any number of captains and starships who can fulfil your so-called covert operations, there is only one _Normandy_. The Alliance needs its flagship back. You have one week, then the _Normandy_ is being recalled."

"Fine," Kessler said grudgingly. He needed to leave the room. The scrutiny was stifling. "Was that the last matter for discussion?"

Vogel nodded and he stood to leave, beckoning for Weston to follow him. The pair exited the meeting chamber, in silence at first, at least until they had put an acceptable distance between themselves and anyone else in earshot.

"You don't have a clue where Williams is," Weston stated bluntly.

"It is hardly necessary for you to remind me," Kessler growled. He paused by a window. Rain was hammering against the glass. His gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "Vogel and Durrant are imbeciles, but they will not be placated by anything short of parading Williams in front of them." He slapped the palm of his hand against the glass. "Damn that arrogant bitch! She was supposed to be the quintessential marine, instead she's still trying to pretend she's a fucking SpecTRe."

"Sir, I'm confident that our sanitisation of the Horizon incident will stand up to public scrutiny. Williams has effectively lost her leverage," Weston offered in a calm voice.

"That may be the case, but locating Williams remains the issue. At the last sighting, the _Normandy_ left Chasca as planned, then disappeared."

"It's hardly a problem," Weston announced confidently. "You simply need to move your plans forward by a few months. As soon as we set things in motion, Williams and the _Normandy_ will be forced back into the fold."

Kessler set his lips into a grim, determined line. "You're quite correct, Weston. I'll make contact this afternoon. I can't say that our friend will complain about the change in plan."

Weston stood at his shoulder. "Everything's going to change, sir."

"For the better, Weston. There's just going to be a little collateral damage along the way."


	39. A Very Fine Vintage

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

Afterlife was quiet. The dancers continued to gyrate, drinks were still served, and credits changed hands in any number of transactions – both above the bar and below. However, the atmosphere lacked passion. From her sanctum, the Queen of Omega was displeased.

Aria hated quiet. She craved the thrill that accompanied crowds. The smell associated with the crush of bodies. Voices and music blending into one sweet cacophony. The potential for violence. The sensation that the whole place was a potential conflagration, only ever a split second away from being consumed entirely.

Instead it was quiet and boring.

The station was slowly clawing its way back after the Cerberus occupation, but its citizens were still nervous. Business was slow across the station. Omega had yet to settle back into its comfortable routine. Then there was the subdued but open presence of Alliance personnel. Shepard and the _Normandy_ , together again. Aria steeled her people for every eventuality, including another attack against the whole damn station. The worst had turned out to be a couple of inept Alliance spies who knew little. There hadn't even been the thrill of some messy kills. T'Soni had simply shot both spies in the forehead and ordered the bodies incinerated. Clean. Boring.

It wasn't as though Aria wanted Omega to be at the centre of more destruction. She just wanted…something.

"Aria?"

It was only Hanek. Hardly cause for excitement, but Aria needed a distraction. Her humourless second-in-command stood with a datapad clutched in his thick fist. She smirked. It made him look like a fucking secretary.

"I've got a security risk. I need your approval to take care of it," Hanek announced.

Aria folded her arms across her chest. So much for a distraction. "When have you ever needed my permission to take care of something so mundane? Make a fucking call, deal with it. Just keep the mess to a minimum."

Hanek turned on his heels, then hesitated. "Fuck. I can't make this call. Just watch the damn video."

Aria snatched the proffered datapad from Hanek with unconcealed annoyance. She immediately recognised the location as one of the upper wards, Dockside. What took longer was ascertaining the identity of the two figures kissing – a human female and an asari. A sneer curled one corner of her lip at the chaste kiss. It was all so fucking pedestrian. She was about to throw the datapad back at Hanek when the couple drew apart and recognition dawned. Kasos and that feeble excuse for a human soldier. Aria wasn't bothered to remember her name. _Taylor?_ _Who the fuck cares._

"What is it with my daughters and humans?" she asked herself, feeling a sudden and unexpected pang at the mere thought of Liselle. She looked up, caught the tail end of Hanek's surprise at her comment, and promptly threw the datapad at him. The Batarian's reflexes weren't what they had been and the device cracked against his forehead. "Why the fuck are you even wasting time filming this shit?"

"Just following orders," Hanek muttered sullenly. "You told me to act on anything that could threaten the little pyjak's safety."

"Yes, you should definitely dispose of this insipid human at once," Aria replied.

"And you'll deal with any shitstorm?" Hanek asked, all four of his eyes shining with pleasure.

"I was being sarcastic, you halfwit!" Aria jabbed her finger in Hanek's direction. She suppressed her urge to throw him off the balcony. "Of course there would be a fucking colossal shitstorm! The crew of the _Normandy_ are my guests. Besides, Kasos can kiss whoever the fuck she wants. I don't give a shit."

Not to mention that this development was long overdue. Aria felt like laughing. The kid was an exceptionally slow learner. The laugh was short-lived as she noticed that Hanek had made no attempt to leave.

"There's talk you're losing your grip, Aria," Hanek eventually said, obviously annoyed that his sport had been curtailed. "That you should've sold Shepard out to the highest bidder. Now you're playing host while both Shepard and the _Normandy_ have the run of your station."

"No one's talking," Aria sneered. She narrowed her eyes. "Because other than you and I, no one knows Shepard's on Omega. And I intend to keep it that way. If I find out otherwise, I'll know exactly who squealed."

"The price on her head is -"

"There's more at stake here than credits, you short-sighted fucktard. Now fuck off, before I dispose of _you_."

Knowing his employer well, Hanek made a departure before she could act on her threat, albeit making his point by leaving slowly. Aria was left standing alone, the datapad at her feet. She nudged at it with her toe. The image was frozen, Kasos' broad grin was clearly visible. She didn't know whether to sneer at the saccharine moment, or feel aggrieved that her daughter was starting to live a life independent of her machinations. The careful strings that Aria had pulled surrounding Kasos had kept her safe, but had not served the purpose she had intended. Instead of moulding a potential successor, she'd moulded an idiot. Perhaps it was time to take a more hands on approach? _Or Kasos is just a lost cause._

And she was still needed to get the hell out of Afterlife and find some other diversion for the evening.

Someone was leaning against the wall as she descended the stairs. Her first instinct was anger. She didn't take kindly to anyone hanging around her private space. Then recognition followed. A predatory smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she recognised the commando whose nubile body she'd briefly enjoyed a few days earlier. Aria had wanted a distraction, she just hadn't expected one to present itself so readily.

"What the fuck do you want, little soldier?" Aria asked, her tone deliberately harsh.

Her body quickened in response when she recognised the expression on the young asari's face. It was an expression Aria enjoyed immensely – terror. She licked her lips as Kurin straightened and tried to look a little more like the commando she claimed to be. The evening had suddenly become far more promising.

"Why me?"

_Oh, that's sweet._ "Why not?" Aria shrugged. "Honestly, I expected you to put up more of a fight. It was a disappointment that your legs practically fell open the moment I touched you. Did you need to be fucked that badly?"

"No!" Kurin replied with more haste than necessary.

The younger asari's voice was laden with a satisfactory amount of repulsion. Aria was enjoying herself immensely already. "You being here says bullshit." She licked her lips. "Try not to follow me, then I might believe you."

Aria turned, walking back the way she had just come. She didn't bother injecting any sort of swagger into her step. She already knew that Kurin would follow of her own accord. A refusal was something Aria didn't need to consider.

"It's because of my family isn't it?" Kurin suddenly demanded with a hard edge to her voice. The commando remained standing near the bottom of the stairs. "Toying with me. It's all some sick game to wield influence over the Kurins."

Clearly the evening wasn't going to progress as smoothly as Aria had hoped. She ought to have known that the maiden would bring politics into what was supposed to be simple fucking. "I have no interest in having any sort of presence on Thessia," Aria replied in a bored voice.

The last time she had set foot on the asari homeworld was to bury Liselle. The place was more of a viper's nest than Omega would ever be.

"Is Omega not enough for you?" Kurin continued. "The Matriarchs will never accept someone like you."

_The Matriarchs can kiss my ass!_ "Don't start with me, little soldier!" Aria looked over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs, her eyes narrowing. "I will fucking destroy you."

Kurin paused for the briefest of moments before, insanely undeterred by the warning, Aria heard her bounding up the stairs. "What if I want to be destroyed?"

Now that was surprising. Aria didn't look at Kurin until she regained the privacy of her aerie. When she did, she found stubborn determination written all over the maiden's face. Aria smirked and shook her head. It was all so very childish, and yet it was also something else. A reminder of sorts, of another maiden who had worn much the same expression when turning her back on her family centuries earlier.

Her earlier anticipation had long since fled replaced by an uncharacteristic melancholia. Aria suddenly wanted to be alone. "You don't mean that. Now piss off. I'm a very busy individual."

"Aria…" Kurin replied, her voice trailed off into a dry, husky whisper. The commando's bravado faltered. "Ever since…I-I can't stop thinking about you."

_Fucking maidens. She's younger than Liselle, barely older than Mycea. What the fuck were you thinking?_ "I'm pleased to have made an impression, misguided as it is." Aria regarded the maiden with a cool gaze. Kurin was stunning, there was no doubt about that. She also possessed an intriguing quality. However, as much as Aria enjoyed playing a good game, she grudgingly had to admit that she did not want to see the younger asari hurt, let alone destroyed. "Go back to your own life, little soldier. You don't want this one."

Aria turned her attention back to the view she had scorned earlier out of boredom. Nothing in Afterlife had changed. Possibilities lingered just out of reach, simply waiting for her to seize them. She refused to give in.

It was some time before she gave in to the urge to glance over her shoulder. Kurin was gone.

* * *

 

"Fifty credits?" Myke spluttered in disbelief. She looked down at the non-descript bottle she held and tried to fathom how its liquid contents could possibly be worth fifty credits. To make things even more difficult, the label was written in an asari dialect she couldn't read. A quick glance at the time reminded her that she was running late. "How can I even be sure this stuff is the real deal?"

The asari wine merchant looked offended at the mere suggestion. "Kid, this is genuine Thessian Red, 2110 vintage."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Myke tapped her finger against the glass impatiently. "Shit…fifty creds. For one bottle?"

"If you don't have 'em, give the damn bottle back. I've got a few bottles of Elcor stuff I can sell to you at five credits a pop. I guarantee it'll get you drunk so quickly you won't realise it tastes like varren piss."

"I'm not trying to get drunk!" Myke protested, clutching the bottle tightly as the merchant tried to repossess it.

"Hey, I'm not running a charity here."

"Listen," Myke began hesitantly. "I've…invited a girl over to my apartment for the first time. I-I really like her. I wanted something nice."

Something changed slightly, a small smile softened the merchant's previously gruff features. "Shit. I'm a sucker for a bit of romance. Forty-five, that's my final offer, and I guarantee it's genuine. You'll get laid, trust me."

Myke felt her cheeks burn in response. "That's not why I want the wine."

The merchant shrugged. "Why the hell not? It's the only reason to buy Thessian Red. Look, do you want it or not?"

With her very pricey bottle of wine tucked inside her jacket, Myke hastened back to her apartment as quickly as she dared – not wanting to work up a sweat or drop the bottle.

She had enough time to hastily scrub her face, kick a pile of junk under her bed, and spend five minutes panicking about what to serve the wine in before Sam arrived. Even though it was expected, the buzzer almost gave her a heart attack. Everything was rendered completely unimportant the moment she opened the door to see Sam standing on the other side of the threshold. The human woman was dressed simply – pants and a short sleeved white top that left plenty of her gorgeous skin exposed to Myke's hungry gaze.

"You managed to find the place okay?" Myke asked as she ushered Sam inside. She winced. "Obviously, because you're here and not still wandering around the streets of Omega. Um…" For one of the few times in her life, Myke was struck speechless. _Compliment her!_ "Um, you look really, really nice, Sam. No, not just nice, stunning!"

A dark spot appeared on each of Sam's cheeks. "No one's ever thought I was stunning before. Thank you."

Emboldened, Myke closed the distance between them. The palms of her hands were a little sweaty, but overall she thought the manner in which she wrapped an arm around Sam's back was exceptionally smooth. "Clearly you've dated a load of idiots."

The kiss that followed felt just as smooth, if a little over enthusiastic for a greeting. By the time they drew apart, Myke had Sam pinned against the wall, her top rucked up slightly to expose her stomach. Nerves curbed any further exploration, but nothing could wipe the grin that had taken over her face, or the way her heart palpitated wildly.

"I’ve got wine! Would you like a glass?" Myke asked. She reluctantly let go of Sam to retrieve the bottle of Thessian Red from her fridge and the two empty jars that were her substitute wine glasses. When she turned, Sam was trying not to smirk. Myke's euphoria was swiftly snuffed out. "What? It's the jars isn't it? I forgot all about wine glasses. This was the best I could do on short notice. They're clean though!"

Sam shook her head. The smirk was gone, replaced by an honest expression that almost made Myke's knees give way. "I don't care about the jars, Myke." She closed the distance between them and gently took both the bottle of red wine and the jars from Myke's grasp. "Why don't we enjoy the wine later?"

As Sam set everything down and turned her attention back to Myke, the asari couldn't nod fast enough. "Great idea." She swallowed nervously. "We can definitely drink it after we…um…"

The human occupied centre stage in all of Myke's senses. Her vision of course. Myke couldn't look at anything else. She didn't want to look at anything else. Sam's eyes were shining with unrestrained passion. If Myke wasn't actually looking at it, seeing it for herself, then she wouldn't have believed that anyone could feel that way about her.

Touch. Her hands returned to Sam's waist, thumbs brushing lightly against the bare skin just above her pants. Sam's skin was delightfully soft. Myke couldn't stop stroking it.

Scent. Sam was wearing some sort of fragrance. Myke didn't know what it was, except that it was the most wonderful thing she had ever inhaled.

The sound of her own breaths thumped in her ears. Was she panting? Sam kissed her again in a deliberately slow tease. The human drew back just as Myke was desperately wanting more. She was definitely panting.

"After what?" Sam asked.

"Oh, um, I didn't mean we have to-"

Sam silenced her with a brief kiss. "I want you to tell me what you want." Their breaths mingled in the limited space between them. Hot. Rapid. Even as Sam's words suggested confidence, the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her nerves.

"I don't know," Myke replied honestly. She felt like she had arrived at a banquet, starving, but unsure of the etiquette. "I think…I think want to look at you, and touch you. And I want…" Myke swallowed. Sam was so close. "I want your hands on me…. _inside_ me. Is that…alright?"

"It's more than alright," Sam whispered. Her touch was feather light on Myke's cheek. "You can start by taking me to bed."

Myke felt slightly giddy as they manoeuvred across the apartment in a strange dance of kisses, caresses and the removal of clothing. It took seconds for Sam to shrug her out of her expensive leather jacket. It landed in a heap on the floor beneath their feet. Myke lifted her hands obligingly and Sam dragged her t-shirt up over her head. Her cheeks coloured. Like most days, she hadn't bothered with a bra. The small mounds of her breasts didn't warrant such an effort. Myke's cheeks burned as Sam stared at her torso. Any embarrassment she felt was short lived as Sam ducked down without hesitation. The human woman took one of Myke's dark purple nipples into a mouth that was burning hot. A harsh sigh escaped Myke's lips.

From that point her own hands seemed to be a few steps ahead of her addled brain as she fumbled through even straightforward tasks. The clasp of Sam's bra defeated her entirely.

"I've got this," Sam offered without a trace of impatience in her voice.

"And I think I'll just sit down," Myke offered quickly.

Grateful for the presence of the bed behind her, Myke sank down without taking her eyes off Sam. Despite the awkwardness, everything was progressing perfectly. Just as she had imagined. Better. Even in her wildest fantasies, her idle imagination could not have conjured _this_. Myke drank in the expanse of warm skin on offer. Her fingers twitched. A delicious warmth spread through her belly.

As she sat back on the bed, Myke shared Sam's laugh as the young woman struggled with her own clasp.

"I was going for smooth. I'm stuck with klutz."

"I don't know what a klutz is…but I like it," Myke said as the offending garment was finally removed. Sam hooked her fingers beneath the waistband of her pants and began to draw them down, taking her underwear with them. And finally Myke had an eyeful of as much skin as she wanted. " _Goddess._ I love it."

With one hand fumbling at her own waistband, Myke reached out and drew Sam's naked body onto the bed. As they knelt, their mouths met in an exchange as heated as their first greeting. It was dampened only by the fact that Myke couldn't remove her leather pants with one hand. She broke off for air, laughing as Sam noticed.

"I think I need a little help with my pants."

Myke had intended the assistance to be of an entirely practical nature however, as Sam took over the task altogether, Myke realised that it was intensely sexual. There was no haste, simply a deliciously slow reveal as Sam carefully drew the skin-tight clothing downwards, making every effort to touch as much of Myke's skin as she could. Sam's fingers left a tingling sensation in their wake, to the point where Myke could think of nothing else. Not even her own nakedness. That came slightly later, after Sam had tossed aside the pants and was kneeling above her, staring openly with her lips parted.

"What?" Myke asked, feeling self-conscious for the first time.

"You. You're…" Sam shook her head in disbelief. "Just…wow. I can't believe you would want me."

"Believe it," Myke said enthusiastically. Sam had simply voiced what she too was thinking. Myke reciprocated, staring unashamedly at Sam's body. From the dark, inviting tips of her breasts, to the triangle of hair at the apex of her legs. It was familiar, and yet so alien. "I want you," she said huskily.

Sam shuffled forward on the bed, moving closer. With careful movements, she eased one knee between Myke's legs and kept moving. Eventually she fell forward, catching her weight with her arms so she hovered above Myke. Her thigh now pressed firmly against Myke's core.

"Goddess," Myke whispered.

It was the simplest of contacts, yet it felt as though she was going to explode from the sudden friction. Sam pressed closer, she only had to lift her head a fraction to claim a kiss. As their lips danced, Sam started to move in a gentle rocking motion, grinding her thigh against Myke's sex. It was a sensory overload. Not just Sam's thigh, or the kiss, but the feeling of a naked body pressed against her own. Sam was so very warm. Myke could feel everything – from the rapid beating of Sam's heart, to the sensation of pubic hair pressing close to her own hairless sex.

Almost by accident, Myke ran one of her hands up through Sam's hair. She felt the strands pass through her fingers. Soft and numerous. For something which had seemed so important to her at one stage, it now felt as though she had done it a thousand times.

Everything that followed felt instinctual. The rhythm of their bodies. The way their hands moved, exploring flesh. Myke found herself with one of Sam's tits in her mouth. Through experimentation she worked out how to draw gasps and low moans from her new lover. She tried the second, whilst her fingers continued to work the nipple of the first. Sam's moans intensified.

Although there was an underlying urgency to their lovemaking, born out of an intense need, they did not rush. Nor were words necessary. Sam found the sensitive spot at the nape of Myke's neck by chance. The sharp cry that elicited from her throat was enough to let Sam know that the touch was particularly pleasurable.

Almost in tandem, their hands snaked lower. Sam rolled onto her side, eager to allow Myke access. Throughout they continued to trade kisses, becoming more heated now. Myke grinned around Sam's lips as she finally pressed one finger against Sam's core, finding her wiry hair damp. The inviting, deeper flesh was even damper still – to the point that Sam was well on her way to being soaked. _She really does want me,_ Myke thought as she probed, searching for Sam's clit by touch and listening to her gasps.

"Myke!"

There! Myke teased it gently with the gentle pressure of her index finger. Sam bucked her hips forward greedily, clearly wanting more friction. Myke's smugness was short-lived as Sam suddenly reciprocated, finding her clit and starting to stroke it confidently. It was all Myke could do to keep up her own, uncertain rhythm beneath Sam's perfect touches. The human seemed to know exactly where to touch her and how fast to go. Myke tumbled, falling towards the precipice much too quickly. It became difficult to force words out between her urgent gasps from breath. She needed to come…and yet she wanted Sam to come alongside her. Myke needed to let her know but all that emerged from her mouth was a sharp cry.

She pushed outwards…searching.

Suddenly her mind was enveloped in the warm chaos that was Sam's mind. The delicious friction created by Sam's finger stopped as the human woman panicked at the unknown. Myke didn't know that Sam was scared. She _felt_ it. She felt everything.

_Goddess…fuck!_ A cold feeling suddenly gripped Myke's stomach, replacing her pleasure with horror. _I've…we've melded. Sam…Sam, please calm down. You're alright_.

_Myke? How the bloody hell can I hear you in my head. I can feel your heart beat…and the blood pumping in your veins! What have we…_

_Done? We've melded. It's a meld._ Myke tried to calm her own thoughts, but it was difficult when Sam's panic felt as though it was her own. _Sam...Samantha, you need to relax. This is…normal._

_Normal. How come you sound as though you don't know what you're doing._ Surprise flooded the meld. _Because you've never done this before._

_No._

_I didn't think asari could do it-_

_-without permission? Of course we can, but we wouldn't. We're…_

_Supposed to ask first?_

_Yes…I'm sorry, Sam. We usually learn this sort of stuff from our mothers, but-_

_-Leda never taught you._ An image of Leda Kasos suddenly flooded the meld. Stunningly beautiful, but emotionally cold. They were both scared of her. _You think it's because she didn't want you to know how terrible she was._

_I knew. She just didn't want to show me._ Myke tried to suppress the dreadful feeling of loneliness that the feelings stirred, but she couldn't keep it to herself. She was suddenly angry. Her mother was decades dead, and yet she still had the capacity to hurt her. Myke concentrated on the buddle of fear radiating from her lover. _Sam…are we…are we okay? I think I can break it off-_

_No! Please don't. I think I just need a moment._

_Okay…okay, I can do that._ The panic already started to subside, replaced by a sense of awe and exploration from both of them. _We have time to get used to this._

_This…is wonderful. I can feel you…everything. I know how badly you need this._ Sam resumed her attention on Myke's clit. Myke desperately want to feel Sam's fingers inside her azure, and then they were. Sam thrust upwards, claiming Myke gently. _I know exactly what you want_.

They resumed their lovemaking within the embrace of the meld. It intensified everything, almost to the point where Myke did not know where Sam began and she ended. They were one. One organism moving together towards a shared goal. There was no need for words as Myke felt Sam's pleasure through their bond. She thrived on it. Revelled in it. This was what had been missing from Myke's experience. No amount of watching dancers in Afterlife could compare to the reality of being wanted by another individual, of bringing them to an all-consuming climax.

Myke came alongside Sam. It was everything the vids had promised, and yet in no way resembled such fakery. What she was experiencing was real. Sam was in her arms, coming violently into the palm of her hand. In turn, Sam buried her finger one last time deep in her azure, filling her with warmth and pushing her over the edge into ecstasy.

As the tremors died and their sweaty bodies relaxed into a contented state, they lingered in the meld. For both of them it was something new and exciting, yet safer than they had ever felt.

Myke wondered if it was time to open the wine….and suddenly Sam's polite refusal at the start of their evening made sense. Her toes curled with embarrassment. _I wasn't supposed to chill red wine_.

_It'll be room temperature again soon…after our second go_. Sam's mirth flooded the bond…and her lust.

_Second go? I won't say no._

An imagined image of Sam kneeling between Myke's thighs flooded the bond. Trying to stop it only made it worse. Sam's tongue was working against her sex, driving between her folds as she writhed. _I'm sorry! Sam, you don't have to…_

Sam licked her lips. Nodded eagerly _. Looks like you didn't need the wine to get laid after all, Kasos._

* * *

_Goddess!_

Although Liara managed to keep any sound from escaping her lips, her sudden movement into a sitting position startled her sleeping bondmate. There was enough light for her to make out Shepard blinking sleepily in her direction.

"Li? Hey, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Evan." Liara bent and deposited a kiss on Shepard's forehead. "Go back to sleep."

It was a trademark of Shepard's profession that she could return so swiftly to slumber. Less than a minute later, Liara felt the gentle rise and fall of the body pressed against her side. Although, in true Shepard fashion, an arm was wrapped securely across her lap. Clearly doubting that she was fine, it was her bondmate's attempt to protect her whilst sleeping. Liara managed to extricate herself from the grip with only a sleepy murmur of protest.

Liara dressed perfunctorily, the images of her nightmare lingering behind her eyes. She cast one more glance over her shoulder at her sleeping bondmate before leaving the room, and the apartment altogether.

Omega never fully slept. Even though Liara knew it was deep into the night cycle, life was abundant everywhere. Although perhaps a less salubrious form of life. Liara kept her hood up and her feet moving, somehow knowing that the individual she sought would not be asleep.

Samara answered the door. There was no trace of surprise on the justicar's face at the sight of someone on her doorstep. Liara was ushered inside without a word. She followed as if in a trance, unable to fully comprehend what had compelled her to leave the warmth of Shepard's arms.

Even when she took a seat opposite Samara on the hard, woven mat at the centre of the room, Liara doubted whether she could give voice to her fears. While Samara was undoubtedly part of the _Normandy_ family, on a personal level Liara could only go as far as to call her an acquaintance. They had spent little time alone and Liara suddenly felt self-conscious beneath Samara's grave, astute gaze. For all the power she wielded, she possessed none of Samara's presence.

"I would offer you refreshment but given the late hour, there is an unmistakable urgency about your presence. How can I offer assistance, Liara?"

"I do not know it is assistance as such…advice, reassurance," Liara began hesitantly. She suddenly felt foolish for being unable to deal with her own fears. "Justicar, I do not want to waste your time-"

"Samara." It was a firm, quiet interruption. "And my time is not yours to waste. I would hope that you sought me out because I am best placed to offer you what you seek. More so than Shepard."

"Shepard would seek to allay my fears, but it would come from a place of love…as opposed to reason. I need honesty, Samara, not coddling."

Samara made no response, nor expression, but Liara realised how ridiculous the statement was as soon as it left her lips. If anyone were to give her honesty, it would be Samara.

Liara drew in a deep breath before beginning. "Near the end of the war I was captured by Cerberus. Their intention was to trade me for the Catalyst. The situation was hopeless. I had resigned myself to my fate, not knowing the circumstances that would lead to my irrational bondmate sacrificing her life for my own. While I was a prisoner, an asari aligned with Cerberus tortured me using technology developed by Henry Lawson to replicate the Reaper's cruel genetic engineering. A device that would transform an Ardat-Yakshi into a Banshee." Liara paused. She remembered the monastery on Lesuss all too clearly. "Samara, I apologise if this is difficult for you…"

"No apology is necessary, Liara." Samara's voice was even. "I am simply reminded that Rila died honourably and bravely. Please continue."

Liara inclined her head. "At the time I thought the transformation had succeeded. There were the obvious cosmetic changes – my markings – but I felt something within me…a demon trying to escape." She suppressed a shiver. "Although the worst never eventuated, ever since I have felt…different. Then came nightmares. Sparse at first, scattered…increasing in frequency only recently. Especially after Evan expressed her desire for a child."

She remembered her cool response to Shepard's admission when she was unable to share the reason for her reticence.

"I had not told her about the nightmares. They are always the same. I am carrying a child. It starts out like a dream. There's a look of joy on Evan's face each time. Then the birthing turns into a horror. The babe…a Banshee, claws its way out of my womb." Liara could no longer stop trembling. Usually she was adept at pushing the emotions and images to the back of her mind, but to hear them spoken aloud gave them substance. "I know it is merely a dream…but I cannot help but feel as though it is a portent. That if I do attempt to bear children, they will be born Ardat-Yakshi. Justicar…Samara, I had hoped that you might have some…insight."

Liara was almost relieved that Samara did not show any emotion in the wake of her explanation, just a measured calm. Samara's gaze somehow drove the repeating nightmare from her mind. The trembling gradually subsided before disappearing altogether.

"I cannot claim to have any scientific knowledge, but in recorded asari history, an Ardat-Yakshi has never manifested amongst the offspring of a mixed-species couple."

"By the Goddess I know, but the dream…and the memory of what Aegir did to me. Both haunt me."

"Aegir?"

Liara had hoped to avoid mentioning the name aloud. "My elder sister – a psychopath. My mother banished her to a monastery when she was a child. She grew ever twisted and crueller to the point where her life was consumed by seeking revenge against her family…me." Liara closed her eyes. She remembered Aegir's death with stunning clarity. Even the warmth as she thrust her hand through her sister's chest. "I…killed her on Intai'sei."

"An act you regret."

"No!" The protest escaped Liara's lips instinctively. As if the word alone wasn't enough, she shook her head vehemently. "No. She was a monster."

"Why was she a monster?" Samara asked calmly.

"She was born a monster," Liara replied quickly.

"Or was she not given the opportunity to be anything else?"

"I-I…" she faltered. Liara had expected to confront a nightmare, just not the familial nightmare that was Aegir. Unable to meet Samara's gaze any longer, she ducked her head, feeling every inch the naïve maiden confronted with the justicar's revealing acumen. "I do not know."

"Liara," Samara said softly. "I cannot think of two individuals who will make better parents. The root of your nightmare does not lie with your potential children, but with the fact that you have not taken the time to mourn your family, to understand what that means."

A shuddering breath escaped Liara's lips. Although it had been tragic, she had always viewed Benezia's death as a mercy. Her father had died at the height of the War. Her mourning had been intense, but necessarily brief. And she had never mourned Isini. Liara had always perceived that death to be justice.

What if she had found it within herself to forgive her sister? Liara's first instinct was that Isini would have thrown it back in her face, but she had never tried.

"And even if, by some cruel twist of fate, your daughter is born an Ardat-Yakshi, you will love her regardless," Samara finished. "Just as I loved Morinth and Rila. Just as I love Falere."

Liara smiled softly. She had absolutely no doubt that Shepard would make a brilliant father. Her only hope for the future was that their daughter inherited an iota of her father's bravery, resilience, and compassion.

"Thank you, Samara. Your counsel has been…invaluable."

Samara nodded. "Although I must also thank you. The manner in which I have been accepted so readily. You and Shepard have given me purpose again. Even though my way of life is dying, I still feel a sense of hope. Will you remain with me, Liara and mediate a while?"

"I have not meditated in a long time, not since I was a child, but yes, I will."

As Liara closed her eyes in an attempt to find the necessary space in which to begin, she was unable to stop a strong flood of emotions. While some reservations remained, and her discussion with Samara had stirred a great deal of discomfort, she wanted to go to Shepard. To rectify the last conversation about children, in which she had been cold and distant.

Liara needed Shepard to know just how much she was looking forward to being a parent at her side.

* * *

 

**Mindoir, Attican Traverse**

"We're reaching crisis point here, Lieutenant Lawson."

Miranda was doing her best to pay attention to the man crouching beside her, but it was difficult to do anything other than think about the fact that her arms were buried to the bicep inside a cow _. Inside_ a fucking cow.

"These Friesians have adapted to life remarkably well on Mindoir, but we desperately need to diversify the breeding stock. I've been waiting on a shipment of top quality semen from Earth for over six months, not to mention the basic supplies for our veterinary clinics…"

Great. Almost up to her shoulder in a cow's birth canal, talking about semen. Miranda looked over her shoulder and confirmed her fears. Jack was doubled over, arms clenched around her stomach in an effort to keep her guffaws silent.

"Okay, this wee nipper's just got its elbow caught," the vet pronounced. "Hold on a sec…okay, now give 'er a gentle tug, Lieutenant. She should come out pretty easily now."

Miranda obligingly pulled on the calf's feet. Less than a minute later, she was greeted with the absolutely disgusting sight of an animal, covered in birthing fluids, presenting itself on the grass it front of her. She stared at the limp form for a few moments, before a slight panic gripped her.

"It's not breathing."

"She just needs a little help," the vet was unconcerned. "Just stick your fingers up her nose and scrape out the amniotic fluids."

"Oh, of course." Miranda felt slightly childish.

Sure enough, eventually the animal appeared to be breathing easily on its own. Miranda sat back on her haunches and tried to block out the smell and the sight of the mess covering her uniform.

The vet turned to her with a grin on his craggy face. "If you're ever in line for a career change, ma'am, you'd make a hell of a great farmer."

_I'm quite sure I wouldn't_ , Miranda thought acidly. "We'll do our best to get what you need," she reassured him as she urged her stiff muscles into a standing position. "I wouldn't think that…semen is a priority, but I will definitely follow up on your supplies."

He nodded his thanks. "It sort of feels as though the Alliance has forgotten about us…except for your garrison of course. I've been a part of a few colonies in my time, and I have to say your people do your service a credit. And I'm much obliged for the assistance with Doris here."

"It was my pleasure," Miranda replied, honestly enough, at least until she re-joined Jack. The petite biotic was now laughing openly. "Don't even say…"

"You and Doris make a fucking cute couple. Kid looks just like you too," Jack slapped a hand against her thigh.

Miranda gritted her teeth. They started walking. Despite the fact that she was already filthy, she did her best to avoid treading in the copious amounts of cow shit in the field. "Have the rest of the squad finished with that generator?"

"Nope, apparently it's a bigger job than they anticipated, another several hours yet."

Fuck. Miranda wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a change of clothes. Still, as she looked out at the small farming community clustered around their generator, she knew it was imperative that it be up and running as soon as possible. Nearby, she heard children's shouts as they climbed a tree. Behind her, Doris's calf was already trying to stand on its spindly legs. Despite everything that had happened on Mindoir, both with the Batarian attack decades earlier and the War, life continued as normal. It was simple…and sweet.

Although Miranda still had absolutely no urge to be a farmer.

"Figured we'd take one of the Grizzlys and head back to base though," Jack continued, much to Miranda's relief. "Parker can keep an eye on things here. You badly need hosing down, Cheerleader. You reek worse than the pisspots on a fucking prison ship."

"And _you_ would know," Miranda fired back scathingly. The last vestiges of her good mood disappeared. "I'm going to find somewhere to wash up."

Half an hour later, the silence in the back of the Grizzly was filled with a simmering resentment. Miranda had done her best to fix herself up – although that merely constituted washing her hands with strong smelling soap and stripping off her outer layers. Up front, the two marines talked contentedly amongst themselves, Miranda and Jack sat in silence.

Jack was pretending to sleep while Miranda did her best to warm herself with her arms. Clad in just a t-shirt and a pair of compression tights, she could do little to stop shivering. Since their encounter in the shower their relationship had changed, for lack of a better description. Miranda couldn't shake Jack's honest offer of sex. The fact that someone was willing to do that for her was a revelation. Friends weren't something that came naturally to Miranda. Since serving on the _Normandy,_ her life had changed immeasurably. She'd had lovers who meant something beyond routine fucking and friends actually willing to put themselves on the line for her.

Miranda regretted her earlier throwaway statement. She'd read Jack's file and knew exactly what had happened to her on Purgatory. Something entirely outside the realm of Miranda's own comprehension, but – recently at least - not her compassion. She had a sudden strange and overwhelming urge for Jack to find happiness – whatever form that might take.

"Jack?"

The ex-convict cocked one eye open. "What?"

"I apologise…for what I said back there. It was unnecessary."

"Yeah well, when has that ever stopped something leaving your great big flapping lips, Cheerleader?"

"I was irritated. I took it out on you."

"Next time keep your little PMS outbursts to yourself," Jack muttered. "Don't wanna be reminded of that shit."

"I know. And you won't be…not by me," Miranda promised.

"Thanks," Jack said grudgingly. She opened both eyes and sat up a little straighter in her seat. "Still, saying that's not gonna stop me from bringing today up whenever I feel like it. Got a few pics on my omni-tool for posterity."

"You're a bloody bitch, Jack," Miranda shook her head.

Jack shrugged. "Someone's gotta keep you honest."

Jack flashed her teeth in a quick grin. She also shrugged out of her oversized hoodie before tossing it across to Miranda. Far too cold to refuse, Miranda nodded her thanks as she pulled it on over the gooseflesh on her arms. She even went as far as drawing up the hood, creating a fairly pleasant cocoon of warmth. There was also a half-eaten packet of dried fruit in the pocket and she helped herself to a handful, hoping that she'd scrubbed her hands thoroughly enough. She passed the remainder to Jack.

"My skin's crawling, Lawson," Jack commented thoughtfully. She poured some of the fruit out of the packet directly into her mouth. "The lack of communication, our supplies drying up? Something's rotten…and it's not just the way you smell."

Miranda ignored the barb. "I know. Even if there aren't enough resources to keep the Colony supplied, there would be a duty to keep us informed. The fact that isn't happening has me worried. I loathe being out of the loop."

Jack snickered. "You _loathe_ it, I fucking hate it. You know, I was thinking-"

"Oh god no." Miranda let out a groan at the thought of Jack _thinking_. "Please stop…immediately."

"Stow it, Cheerleader." Jack folded her hands behind her head. "I was thinking about Captain Perfect. If anyone can pull some strings with the brass to get this mess sorted out, it's gotta be your girlfriend."

Miranda shook her head. "I'm not going to speak to Ashley simply for the sake of asking her to use her position. It's cruel…for both of us. And I'm not ready to have a conversation about forgiveness."

"What she did was shitty, but you need to cut her some fucking slack."

Miranda raised her eyebrows. "You've changed your tune. A couple of days ago you wanted to make her regret the day she was born."

Jack shrugged. "What can I say, I'm the forgiving type."

"Bollocks, you'd carry a grudge to hell and back."

"You need to accept that it's war, people do weird shit."

"We're not at war, Jack."

"C'mon, you're supposed to be some sort of genius!" Jack scoffed. "The war didn't end with London, it just changed. Went subversive and shit. And you know as well as I do that you don't have the luxury of time while you're fighting a war. Kinda like when we went up against the Collectors. None of us expected to survive which led to all sorts of weird shit going down. You and Shepard? Tali and Garrus. Me and the boy scout. Tell me any of that would've happened if you knew you were coming back. How do Turians and Quarians even work by the way?"

"Hold on. You…and Jacob?" Miranda asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. So? I got needs. Besides, it was just that once. The night before." Jack shrugged. "It was either get plastered or fuck someone…and I didn't want to take a hangover into the Collector base. And you don't need to worry, Lawson, he didn't share any of your dirty little sex secrets."

Miranda suppressed the urge to shiver. That had happened a _handful_ of times. Now the thought that she and Jack had shared the same lover was a distraction she didn't really didn't need. "Thank you for that…special insight, Jack. But I really don't see what the point of sharing was…other than to not help matters. At all."

"My point, Cheerleader, is that he fucking died the next day. I didn't love him. Fuck, I was always bored before he even opened his mouth," Jack explained. "But the guy was always decent to me, y'know? Then boom – fucking catches a laser beam from one of those crab things in the chest. Dead."

"Jacob was a good guy," Miranda agreed. She paused, bit her lip. Felt slightly sick. "Ash isn't in any danger."

_Or at least not any longer. You saw her face when she came back from that op._ Miranda closed her eyes, picturing Ash's limp purple hair and unhealthy pallor. _She almost died and you burned her over a fucking kiss_.

"So, did my little pep talk work or are you going to continue being a miserable fucker?" Jack demanded.

Miranda didn't open her eyes. She had already moved past the last time she had seen Ash, and was thinking about their time together in Australia. Ash was sprawled across the bed after their last bout of fucking. Her olive skin was caught by a few rays of sunlight streaming through the holes in the curtains. She'd only been gone long enough to get a glass of water, returning to find Ash fast asleep. Although Miranda hadn't been tired, she'd curled up on the bed and spent an hour just basking in her marine's presence. Stroking her skin. Listening to her soft snores. Miranda wanted more afternoons like that one.

A lifetime of afternoons.

"Yes, Jack. I'll send her a vid."

"Fantastic," Jack replied smugly. "One word of advice though, have a shower first. You've got dried…whatever the fuck it is, on your face. Shit from that cow's uterus. It's fucking disgusting."

 


	40. Promises of a New World

**London, Earth**

With much of London spread out like a tableau before her, Susannah bent double, her hands resting on her knees as she gasped for breath. She glanced over her shoulder at the hill she had just summited, a paltry thing compared to the inclines she used to run up easily in Vancouver. Now her feet felt like lead weights. Her scarred skin felt as though it was burning all over again. All she wanted to do was collapse on the ground.

Despite everything, Susannah refused to feel sorry for herself. She straightened sucked in a few deep breaths, to the point where she looked only mildly bothered by her exertion. It was mid-morning, the Heath was already full of other joggers, dog walkers, and mothers pushing prams. Were it not for the cranes littering the skyline below, Susannah imagined that it looked much as it had done before the War. She turned her attention away from the view towards a uniformed man sitting on a bench.

"Ravi. Hey."

The officer glanced up immediately. His dark hair was slicked back perfectly, and he distinctively resembled an accountant as opposed to a soldier. At the sight of her, he fixed a toothy smile on his face. "Wildcard, a pleasure as always. How long has it been? Two years at least."

Susannah winced at the use of her academy call sign, a reminder of a youth when she had felt and acted as though she were invincible. It had been years since she'd seen Ravi Sharma in person. He'd chosen to fly a desk while she'd remained in a combat squadron. Nevertheless, he'd been a good friend. She shook his hand warmly before gratefully taking a seat. "Possibly three. Especially considering you couldn't make it to the wedding."

"You're never going to let me live that down are you?" Ravi laughed. "I would have thought that my wife going into labour was a good enough excuse."

"How is the family?"

"We're all doing well enough."

Ravi busied himself on his omni-tool for a few moments. He brought up a picture of his wife - whom Susannah had never particularly warmed to - and a plump, frowning toddler. Susannah nodded, adding in an appreciative murmur that she hoped sounded sincere.

"Which reminds me," Ravi continued. "I saw your wife on the news the other day, must get difficult? All the attention."

Susannah shrugged. "Not really, no. Lucy was the one with Shepard at the end, she's the one people want to meet. I'm more than happy to stay in the background while she poses for pics. I'm just another vet, better off than some."

"I read the reports. You were spaced and listed as MIA. You've got one hell of a guardian angel, Susannah. I have to say that you're looking good. Not to mention keeping in shape."

"About that…" Susannah paused, wondering if she ought to apologise before she went further. "Is the offer still open?"

Ravi raised his eyebrows. "From your last correspondence you made it clear that you didn't want to be tied to a desk. Very clear…complete with expletives."

"I did…and I'm sorry, Rav." Susannah winced. It hadn't been her finest moment. "I wasn't in a good head space at the end of the War. Other than that, I've got no excuse. Just tell me it's still open and I'll spend the next decade making it up to you by being the best damn administrator in the service."

"Forgive me for asking, Susannah, but what's changed?"

"I'm not cut out for civilian life." Susannah hated that she sounded conceited, as though she was above it all. She couldn't help it. Maybe it simply came down to the fact that was meant to be more than _this_. More than the sum of her crippled parts. "I need a purpose other than simply existing."

"And what makes you think that this will be enough?"

"It has to be," Susannah replied through clenched teeth.

Ravi was an old friend, but she wasn't about to admit her private fears. Especially considering she couldn't even tell her own wife. Susannah knew that Lucy would think it was her fault. Lucy would blame herself for not doing enough. Susannah needed to fix herself before something snapped.

Before she could spoil the mood altogether, Susannah forced a smile onto her face. "I make a pretty mean cup of tea."

"You make a meaner pilot," Ravi replied, unable to keep the pity out of his voice. He rose to his feet. "I can't guarantee anything, especially with your discharge, but I'll grease a few wheels. You'd be amazed how little red tape means these days. But are you sure this is what you want? The service is changing, Susannah, and – confidentially – it's not for the better."

"I know, Rav. But I'm sure all it needs is a good kick up the ass. I'm even better at kicking asses than I am at making tea."

He smiled, this time it reached his eyes. "Yeah, I know you are. Look, leave it with me and I'll do everything I can to get you back into blue." He turned to leave, then paused. "Hey, are you free for dinner later? You and Lucy should come over."

"You won't be getting any autographs. I'm playing bachelor while Luce is in Australia, but if the offer still stands, I'm in. It was going to be beans on toast tonight."

"Of course it does." Ravi laughed. "Still, Australia? Nice. You should've tagged along. You look like you could do with a bit of sun."

Susannah looked down at the abundance of freckles covering her pale skin. "You know the sun and I don't get along. Besides, she's gone purely for work, and it's someplace I'd never heard of. Blackheath? Hardly the Gold Coast."

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

At odd times throughout the day, often when it was most inconvenient, Myke found that her lips had curled into a smile of their own accord. She supposed the smile was simply a reflection of the way she felt on the inside, but she was sure that didn't stop her from looking like an idiot. Still, thoughts of Samantha Traynor gave her every reason to smile. The raven-haired human was undoubtedly the most wonderful individual Myke had ever met.

Feeling oddly guilty, Myke cast a quick glance towards Shepard. The ex-marine was currently sweating her way through a series of painful looking exercises on the floor. Their friendship meant a lot to Myke, but it was an entirely different kind of relationship from her fledging one with Sam.

It was far less intimate for one.

_Damn!_ The affliction had struck again. Myke hoped that Shepard was fully occupied with her punishing exercise regime but, from the suspicious expression on her friend's face, she knew otherwise. Not wanting to embarrass herself further, she turned her attention away from Shepard, to the window. It was a view she'd already seen dozens of times and her thoughts easily strayed to pleasant memories. Simply being naked with Sam at first. The way their bodies meshed together. Then the sex, in all its variations. Myke had thought the movements of her tongue against Sam's sex clumsy and awkward, but the resulting climax had all the sounds of satisfaction. And Sam had told her as much afterward, in between lingering kisses.

Myke's smile widened and her cheeks burned with a fierce, contented heat.

"Myke?"

Her name jolted her out of her daydream. "Huh? What?"

Shepard paused mid push up. "Are you bored, Kasos? You look a little bored…or is it bothered?"

"No and nope," Myke replied shaking her head a little too vigorously. She most definitely _was_ bothered.

"You know, you could always join me," Shepard suggested as she resumed her push ups. Despite the fact that she was only using one arm, she made it look effortless.

Myke snorted immediately and loudly. "You're shitting me, right?"

"Fine, sit there and be bothered." Shepard glanced up, grinning. "Still, it's nice of you to grace me with your presence."

"I'm always here."

"You _used_ to spend a lot of time here," Shepard replied. "Let me guess, a certain Ops Chief is on duty, so you're settling for me?"

"I'm not settling for you!" Myke protested. She winced. "How'd you even know about me and Sam?"

"It's not exactly hot gossip on the streets of Omega if that's what you're asking. It just happens that this human you've been spending a lot of time with is also a close friend. I'd be remiss in my friendship if I didn't make sure you were both happy…and slap you whenever you get a gormless, lovesick expression on your face. Kind of like the one you've been wearing all morning."

"Is it that bad?" Myke asked with a wince.

"Sickening." Sweating slightly and breathing more heavily, Shepard finished her push-ups and shifted into a sitting position to stretch. "I don't suppose there's any point in asking you if you're happy."

"I'm happy." Myke nodded enthusiastically. "Although I'm still trying to figure out how all of this works. I've never had friends or a girlfriend. I suppose I should have said something. Is it good manners to tell your friends about your girlfriend?"

"Good manners…and it gives your friends ammunition for teasing," Shepard pointed out helpfully. "So, what's it like?"

Myke felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks. Her treacherous thoughts went straight back to the memory of Sam's naked body pressed against her own. It had been everything she'd dreamed of, and more. "Awkward at first, but Sam's a really good teacher. We-"

"Jeez, Kasos!" Shepard interrupted. "I meant being in love, not the sex. Those details are for the two of you to keep to yourselves."

"Oh," Myke grinned with embarrassment. "Um, it's nice…really, really nice. I don't know what I thought it would be like exactly, but it was nothing like this. I guess I always thought my first time would be with another asari. Humans are…different. Softer. Hair tickles. And the taste..."

"Again with the sex details!"

Myke narrowed her eyes. "You're kind of a prude aren't you?"

Shepard balked. "I am not! I'm a bloody marine."

The indignant expression on her friend's face almost drove Myke to outright laughter. She sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees, delighted at her discovery and determined to make the most of it. "So this means I can ask you questions? As much as I like Samara, she's not exactly forthcoming when it comes to the gritty details."

"Or you could just talk to Sam?" Shepard suggested with an arched eyebrow.

"Goddess no!" Myke shook her head vigorously. "Not about this sort of stuff. I was hoping you could explain something I saw in a vid once. One of the characters was wearing this fake cock. Surely you and Liara-"

"Shit, Kasos, you don't really have an 'off' switch do you?" Shepard interrupted. She rose to her feet and continued stretching, albeit with somewhat ruddier cheeks than a few moments earlier. "Trust me when I say you should talk to Sam."

Myke laughed contentedly. She settled back on the sofa, linking her hands behind her head in a relaxed pose. "Hey, it's the first time I've been able to talk about sex when I'm actually having it myself. And it's another part of your job as a friend – you know, to give me advice."

"Agreed. And it's a role I intend to take very seriously. If you want to try something, talk to Sam." Shepard retrieved a nearby bottle of water and took a swig. She paused and her brows furrowed. "About that, have the two of you thought about how this is going to work. Not the sex – you seem to have that all figured out – you being on Omega and Sam on the _Normandy_?"

"You had to bring that up?" Myke sighed, feeling immediately deflated. She'd been quite happy talking about sex. Why was reality always trying to ruin her life? "Yes…and no. I mean, the Alliance aren't exactly throwing their arms open to asari at the moment. There's no solution short of Sam throwing away her career and coming to live on Omega. And that's out of the question. She's not living here. I won't let her. Omega isn't the place for someone like Sam."

If Myke was being honest with herself, it was a dilemma that she had been stubbornly ignoring. Nothing could take away the fact that Sam would eventually leave Omega. She'd remained trapped, although taunted with the knowledge that there was someone in the Galaxy who was foolish enough to want to be her lover. She leaned forward and put her head in her hands.

A few moments later, the sofa depressed with an extra weight as Shepard sat down at her side. When the weight of Shepard's arm settled over her shoulders, she leaned into the hug for a moment. Myke remembered that Shepard was covered in sweat, but she didn't care. She was far more concerned about putting a stop to embarrassing sniffles that suddenly overwhelmed her.

She dashed them away quickly as she tugged out of Shepard's embrace. "Fuck! Sorry. I hate crying," she muttered. It was a lesson she had learned from a very young age. Tears achieved nothing. "I need to figure out what the hell I'm going to do, but it's impossible. Even if I come up with an answer, some moron could decide to go to war and throw everything into chaos. What if there isn't a place for Sam and I to be together?"

From her own limited experience, Myke hated war. She'd spent the Cerberus occupation in a state of fear – hiding, constantly living with nightmarish sounds in the distance. A part of her regretted that she hadn't picked up a weapon and done something to fight back, but it was the deluded part of her brain. She was a coward.

She'd expected to find excitement and danger as Shepard's friend. All she'd actually managed to do was to get shot and held hostage by her own father. Hardly an impressive resume. Then there was the fact that her entire world view was limited to Omega. Everything she knew, her whole existence was built within a sheltered cocoon of her father's design. Despite growing up on one of the Galaxy's most infamous stations, she had no experience of the real world.

Myke snapped out of her thoughts when Shepard suddenly rose to her feet. Her friend paced to the centre of the room and stopped. "What if I made you one?"

"Huh?"

Shepard turned. Myke couldn't remember ever seeing such a determined expression on someone's face. It was both terrifying and invigorating.

"A place for you and Sam to be together." Shepard said with no trace of their earlier, light-hearted banter. "I promise I'll make you one."

In that moment Myke was reminded of the soldier she'd first seen on Omega. The individual whose eyes had literally glowed. Over the past months Myke had thought of Shepard as her friend. Well, perhaps not right from the beginning. There'd been the first meeting where she'd fawned embarrassingly, but that hardly seemed to matter now. Shepard was always just…Shepard. Her first point of call whenever she was out of food in her apartment – which was almost every day. They'd wiled away untold hours talking about absolutely anything. And she hadn't hesitated before she threw herself into a fight alongside Shepard despite possessing no skills that would give anyone cause for concern – although the Turian in question had yelped quite loudly when she'd grabbed his flange.

Yet this was the same human who had stopped the Reapers. Myke didn't buy into the whole 'Shepard' myth that she read about on the extranet, but only because she knew how much Shepard herself loathed it. If she stopped and thought about it for any length of time, she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the things Shepard had accomplished in her short lifetime.

If anyone were to keep such a promise, it would be Shepard.

Myke suddenly wondered how she had managed to work her way into the confidence of such an individual. She was a nobody. Shepard wasn't looking at her as though she were an inconvenience or an embarrassment, but as a friend.

"Although you've got to promise me one thing in return," Shepard said.

"Anything." Myke couldn't keep the hero worship from her voice.

"Stop looking at me like that." Myke responded with a guilty wince as Shepard continued, "I'm just Shepard. Whatever happens, that won't change. I'm relying on you to keep me grounded, Kasos."

Myke beamed. "I think I can manage that. So…about that advice?"

* * *

 

Her duty shift started in a matter of minutes, but Ash couldn't bring herself to summon any vestige of enthusiasm. She waited for the elevator in a vague stupor brought on by a restless sleep. There was no solace to be found in the world of dreams, only cruel repetition. Infinite worlds in which she made the same stupid mistake. Even constantly reminding herself that she was supposed to be a professional soldier had ceased to be as effective. Ash knew that simply functioning from day to day would never be enough.

_How did it get to this?_ Ash asked herself, anger creeping into her thoughts. _My happiness dependant entirely on one person?_ She had never expected to be _that_ person. That kid at school who cried for a solid week after being dumped, that marine distraught over a marriage breakdown. Ash's life had always revolved around the Corps, and that was how she had expected to spend the rest of her days. Then Miranda Lawson had happened.

The elevator doors opened, and Ash was both surprised and annoyed to find Traynor staring back at her. "Going the wrong way, Chief?"

Ash's bad mood was so tangible, it drove Traynor to stare at her feet. "Actually, ma'am, I-I was looking for you."

"Must be important to make the trip up to the Nest. Spit it out, Traynor."

"Um...you've got a message," Traynor said, managing to look her in the eye again.

Ash frowned. "I must've missed the memo that said you were back on comms. Clayton is more than capable of opening his mouth to tell me I have a message."

"I'm not…and he is, of course he is. It's just that the XO asked if I might be the one to let you know. It's from Mindoir."

"Why the fuck would I care if I had a message from Mindoir?" Ash willed the elevator to move faster. She hated taking out her frustration on Traynor, but the other marine was the only outlet available. Her heart thumped almost painfully in her chest.

"Um, I don't know…I thought-"

"Clearly you didn't think. I'm on duty, Chief. I don't have time for personal messages."

"Understood, ma'am," Traynor replied sharply.

The Chief opened her mouth as though to say something else, then thought better of it as she met Ashley's gaze. Traynor blanched and her gaze darted back to the floor.

"Was there something else?"

"I just wondered, with the repairs on the _Normandy_ almost complete, if you had an idea of when we'd be shipping out?" Traynor asked in a rushed voice.

It was a question she had constantly been asking herself. There was no reason for the _Normandy_ to remain on Omega, but Ash could not bring herself to say goodbye to Shepard, or to face a return to the drudgery of the Alliance. She scowled despite herself. "We're all keen to get the hell off this rock, Traynor. The _Normandy_ will leave when her Captain decides, no sooner."

At that point the elevator opened onto the CIC. Ash could sense the relief in the air as Traynor scrambled out and bid a hasty, incoherent farewell. Ash went as far as to open her mouth to apologise, but no sound emerged. She stared for a moment of useless silence, before she managed to drag her attention back to the fact that she needed to relieve her XO.

Grenier was clearly surprised to see her. "I didn't expect to see you, ma'am. Did Traynor not let you know-"

"It's 2300, LC, you're off-duty," Ash interrupted. "Haven't you got something else you'd rather be doing than pissing off your CO?"

"With all due respect," Grenier said in a low voice. "We're in dry dock, there's absolutely nothing happening that would require your attention over the next hour. And-" he checked his chrono "-yes, I am off duty, so I can tell you as a friend to go listen to your message."

"You're treading on dangerous ground, LC," Ash murmured. She began to feel a dangerous sense of hope alongside the chronic guilt over her treatment of Sam Traynor. Regardless, her professionalism was severely compromised by the whole damn situation. It was a mess she was determined to sort out – starting with whatever news the message held. "Fine, you've got the bridge for another hour?"

Grenier suppressed a small smile as he nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Ash spent every second of her walk back to the Nest fretting over the potential contents of the message. By the time the door closed behind her, granting complete privacy, she was past the point where she couldn't simply watch it. Instead she spent an agonising thirty minutes, alternating between pacing the length of the Nest and sitting in front of her terminal. All the while her treacherous mind conjured up increasingly dire scenarios. Ash convinced herself that it was a 'Dear John' letter, even though her fraying common sense reminded her that Miranda wouldn't resort to something so cowardly.

At the point at which Ash had sunk low enough to pour a finger of scotch whilst on duty, she set her jaw and opened the vid. The picture was grainy and intermittent, but just the sight of Miranda was enough to cause a painful knot in Ash's stomach. Miranda appeared as though she'd just emerged from a shower – her dark hair was damp around her shoulders and a steaming hot drink was clutched in her hands. Miranda's cheeks were a ruddy pink, as though she'd scrubbed a little too vigorously. Even though Miranda must have known that she was already being recorded, she remained silent for some time, a pensive frown marring her perfect brow.

The wait made Ash squirm in her seat until Miranda set her cup down decisively and stared directly into her monitor. Despite her crippling fears, Ash drank everything in – the icy blue of Miranda's eyes, her full, red lips parted in anticipation of speaking.

_{Relax, Ash, this isn't what you think it is.}_ First and foremost, Miranda sounded tired. However there was an underlying energy to her voice, almost an impatience _. {Although I should feel aggrieved that you would think me capable of doing it via message…but I know you, and I know how you worry. So stop. This isn't me telling you that we're over.}_ Ashley starred open mouthed at the screen as Miranda paused and drew in a visible breath _. {This is me admitting that I was an idiot. I'm not throwing away the best thing that has ever happened to me, not over something like this. So I forgive you…if you'll do the same for me. I'm sorry.}_

"Of course I do…but you don't have anything to apologise for, sweet cheeks," Ash murmured to the screen. A huge weight had disappeared from her shoulders. She slumped forward, staring in disbelief at the screen as her lover smiled with obvious relief. Ash had missed seeing that smile. She touched the screen, wishing she could feel the warmth of Miranda's skin beneath her fingers.

_{I think we both need to face the fact that we can't continue like this.}_ Miranda continued. _{We need to change…something. I don't have any answers at the moment, but that life we were talking about? The one with two kids and a dog?}_ Miranda paused thoughtfully. _{Okay, maybe you didn't mention a dog…that was me.}_

"I didn't even know you liked dogs," Ash commented softly. It was a somewhat incongruous image - Miranda Lawson playing with a puppy. The more Ash thought about it, the more she loved it.

_{I bloody well want that life. If it means we need to come clean about our relationship, I don't care about the consequences. We've already sacrificed enough. Whatever happens, we'll come to a decision together. Just, the next time you're lonely? Promise me you'll take care of yourself instead. I can't help it that mine are the only lips I want you to kiss. I love you, Ash.}_

Ash felt more than a little giddy…and turned by the mere thought of Miranda's lips on her own.

_{Oh, Jack wants me to ask if you can follow up with Alliance HQ about the supply chain.}_ Miranda bit her lip guiltily. _{I'm sorry to tack a request on the end of a personal message, but things are looking a little grim here. Any strings you could pull would be greatly appreciated. Talk soon. Lawson out.}_

Although Ash felt slightly bereft at the end of the message, a sense of elation caused her to grin uncontrollably. She felt as though she had escaped from a life sentence with a mere slap on the wrists. Regardless of however they moved forward, she was determined to spend the rest of her life proving to Miranda how much she loved her. If that meant a puppy, Ash was fully prepared to face that challenge.

After the initial moments of childish abandon had passed – including swivelling around twice on her chair – Ash squared her shoulders and slipped back into the mode of Alliance Captain.

"EDI?" Ash asked the omni-present AI.

_{Yes, Captain?}_

"Can you ask Sam Traynor to come up to the Nest? I've got an apology to make."

* * *

 

As was her usual practice, Liara monitored several feeds simultaneously. Most required her full attention for less than a minute. She worked swiftly - absorbing, assessing, acting - before moving on to the next task. It was instinct, and a natural aptitude honed through experience. Liara dealt with a transfer of several million credits before casting her gaze over a series of alerts that had steadily been arriving over the last few minutes. She marked each as a priority before checking on the status of one of her secure uploads.

"That is everything," she commented, almost as an aside.

"You're not giving me much to go on."

"I know, Feron, and I apologise," Liara replied, turning her full attention to the live vid feed. The drell's face occupied much of the small screen. What little she could see of his surroundings were non-descript. He could have been anywhere. "I have no expectations about what you may be able to uncover. I am...unsure as to what it is I even want you to find."

"There will be something," Feron was unconcerned by Liara's uncertainty. "There always is. Are you prepared for what I might find?"

Liara paused. Considered her friend's question. "I do not know if I could prepare myself. Regardless of what you find, I need to know." Liara then rechecked her earlier alerts and felt the stirrings of disquiet in the pit of her stomach. Her instincts told her something was building. "Can you remain online for the next hour? I have a feeling-"

"I see it too," Feron interrupted swiftly, efficiently. He was a very good information broker. "Matano, Iera...the level of traffic is slightly unusual. I'll look into it. Give my regards to Shepard. Feron out."

Feron's image winked out, leaving Liara in the silence of her den. She bowed her head. The reports were momentarily forgotten as she dwelt on the original reason for her conversation. For all her experience she was unable to divorce her emotions from her work. Internally she reeled, a tangled web of loathing mingled inexplicably with hope. It was the latter she found difficult to reconcile.

"Li?"

Her entire body jolted visibly at the unexpected sound. She turned to find Shepard standing in the doorway, concern etched on her face.

"Am I interrupting?" Shepard continued. "The door was open..."

Liara shook her head. "Of course not. The door is always open for you."

Shepard smiled in response and ventured a few steps into the room. "You look a little pale. Has something happened?"

Extending her hand, Liara beckoned Shepard to close the distance between them. Some of her earlier fear dissipated as Shepard's fingers entwined with her own. Liara tucked her body in close as her gaze fixed pointedly on an image frozen on one of the screens. It soon became obvious that Shepard recognised the particular individual. The image was grainy as a result of having been enhanced from a distance, but the face was unmistakable. It had haunted both their nightmares. Isini Aegir.

"Aegir? I thought we put that demon to rest?" Shepard asked, her voice tinged with ice.

"Dead, yes," Liara replied softly. "To rest, no."

"Tell me what you need to do. Can I help?"

Liara turned and reached out to lay a hand on Shepard's cheek. Gently she directed her bondmate's gaze away from the screen, to fix on her instead. She bit her lip. "Shepard, I hope you will understand, this is something I need to do for myself...for us. I want to find out who my sister was."

Shepard swallowed, visibly struggling with her anger. "You know I trust your judgement, Li, but she was a monster. A monster that would have killed you without a thought, all because of a past that happened before you were born. It had nothing to do with you."

"It had... _has_ everything to do with me, Evan. I need to make an effort to lay my family to rest...before I can start my own."

"I don't think-" Shepard began. She stopped and her eyes widened. "Your own? You mean…Liara...the last time we spoke about children, I thought it was me."

Liara shook her head. "It was never you. My fears were my own. Samara helped me find the cause, a way forward. I agree that this is not the perfect time, but somehow it feels right. I feel ready. It is part of the reason I want to go home, and the reason I need to know more about the life Isini led before our paths entwined." She paused. Her bondmate's face was sickly pale and Liara feared that she had said too much, too fast. "Evan? Speak please."

Shepard swallowed, struggling to contain her emotions. "You know I will support you in this, wherever it leads."

"And the other matter. A family?" Liara ventured. "I was cold the last time we spoke, if you have changed your mind-"

"I could never change my mind about having a child with you," Shepard said emphatically. "You really want to have a daughter with me?"

At Liara's responding nod, Shepard surged forward and claimed her lips in a fierce but tender kiss. Fear, anger - everything disappeared in the face of the contact. Liara couldn't get enough of Shepard's warmth. She sought out the depths of Shepard's mouth, her embrace, and desire quickly stirred. Shepard pressed her back. However when her legs hit the console, she was reminded of her priorities.

When she broke the kiss, Liara's breaths came hard and fast. In that moment the responsibilities of the Shadow Broker sat like a yoke around her neck, one she desperately wanted to be rid of. She needed to remain as close as possible to her bondmate, breathing in her scent, feeling the heat flooding from her skin. "I love you, Evan. More than anything, I want a family with you...despite everything. Is that selfish?"

Shepard's eyes were shining with unshed tears. "I made Myke a promise tonight, a promise that I would make a place where she could be with Sam. That's the same place I want to raise my daughters in. The only question is how soon I can make it happen."

Liara felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Give me an hour. I need to finish up here, then I want to spend the evening with you and no distractions."

A low hum of approval sounded from the back of Shepard's throat. "I don't know, I might have a better offer," she teased playfully. "I'll leave you to your work."

Stealing a last quick kiss, Shepard turned and practically skipped out of the room. Liara watched her go for the simple fact that she didn't want her bondmate to leave. Still, there was the promise of a quiet night together...or not so quiet depending on how events unfolded. Liara turned her attention back to her screens, willing the entire Galaxy to enter some state of inactivity that didn't require any attention.

Unfortunately, the Galaxy did not share the same romantic sentiment. Liara frowned as she zoned in on the information she had been watching earlier. Traffic continued to increase across a number of systems. A realisation hovered just on the edge of Liara's grasp.

Shepard suddenly peered around the doorframe. "You know I was just joking about having a better offer right? I don't."

"Goddess," Liara whispered in horror. Thoughts of a pleasant evening with Shepard vanished in a single, terrible second. She closed her eyes for the barest of moments to collect her thoughts. When her eyes opened, she fixated on her feeds with a single-minded determination. "Evan, I need you to open a channel with the _Normandy_. I am going to need Ashley's full attention."

"Of course, what's up?" Shepard responded immediately, all trace of humour was gone from her tone.

"It may be premature, but we cannot afford to take such risks," Liara said, her fingers flying. She had an incoming communication from Feron in amongst at least a dozen other agents. At the touch of a button she diverted several. She brought the Broker hub in New Zealand online, cutting short Hannah and Mack's downtime. Her conversation with Shepard already felt as though it had taken place a long time ago. "There are several fleets massing near Alliance controlled worlds - no sources can offer any form of identification, but all signs indicate that they are hostile."

"Fuck. The Alliance's policies always meant that something like this might happen, but why now?" Shepard exhaled. "Liara…which worlds?"

Liara turned to look at her bondmate briefly. Adrenaline kept the fear at bay, for now. "Feros, Horizon, Elysium, Chasca, and...Mindoir."


	41. The Coming Storm

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

Despite everything that had happened to Shepard in her adult life, the one constant was her ability as a soldier. Right from her graduation from boot, she possessed the confidence and the aptitude to do her job. Originally, she had been driven by the desire to prove something to her mother, before discovering that she had been born to be a marine.

Along the way several events had challenged that fact – Akuze, being named humanity's first SpecTRe, dying over Alchera, and being arrested after Bahak. However, nothing had changed the fact that she _had_ been bloody good at her job. Then she’d gone and died for a second time and everything changed.

Shepard was desperately out of practice – if one even 'practiced war.' In her previous lives, the whole sad business came to her like second nature. Her actions were driven by instinct. The knowledge that there was a job to be done. Although still inherently present, anxiety and fear were always consigned to the back of her mind.

When Shepard clenched her fist, she found her palm sweaty. Somewhere in the constricted confines of her chest, her heart was hammering wildly. It required an effort to keep any trace of her body's betrayal as discreet as possible. However, as Liara cast yet another glance in her direction, Shepard knew that she was failing. Although they walked side by side, the air between them was heavy with tension. Liara had made her thoughts clear, but it was all futile. Shepard knew she wasn't ready, but this was the moment that became irrelevant. She needed to act. Everything else was pushed aside.

The conversation about children, just a few hours earlier, now seemed like nothing more than fanciful dreaming.

Shepard readjusted the rifle case she was carrying so she could reach out and press her hand to Liara's shoulder. The touch was enough to break the disruptive silence between them.

"I'm sorry for losing my temper," Shepard offered quietly. Speaking took her mind off everything else. As did brushing her thumb over the bare skin of Liara's neck.

"You hardly lost your temper. No more so than I did," Liara replied. Although she did not stop walking at her brisk pace, she met Shepard's gaze for a moment. "Evan, please do not think that my reticence means that this does not impact me. I care about the people on these worlds, about our friends."

"I know. I never meant to suggest you didn't." Shepard let her hand fall to her side. Although she missed the contact, she couldn't allow herself to sink into complacency. "Are we good, Li?"

Liara cast her another quick look. This time she offered up a warm, brief smile. "Always."

"I really hate to interrupt this lovely moment, but am I the only one that knows this isn't the way to the docks?" a determined voice piped up.

Liara's smile disappeared. It was quickly replaced by a scowl – directed belatedly at Shepard for allowing Myke to tag along in the first place, and then at the young asari herself. "Do I need to remind you of the conditions of your continued presence, Mycea? There was only one."

"I know, I know! Remain silent," Myke replied, throwing up her hands in surrender. "I was just trying to help, since it looks as though you don't know where the hell you're going."

"I assure you I do."

Liara's tone made it quite clear that was the end of the conversation. Myke looked suitably chastened, but not enough to curb her nervous energy as she scurried along beside them. Bringing up the rear, Samara appeared as though she was completely detached from everything around her. Only a fool would have made such an assumption.

Liara led the small group to a nondescript warehouse nestled amongst dozens of identical units. However, the security system wasn't standard, and nor were the contents. Shepard blinked several times as a harsh, bright glow lit up the space. She looked around, finding crates stacked against three of the walls, and more nestled in the middle. All were immediately identifiable as the type used by arms manufacturers to transport their goods. While most still bore the recognisable stamps of their manufacturers – Armax Arsenal, Rosenkov Materials, Ariake Technologies - the matt black crates in the centre were marked only with a stylised sea serpent. It was these crates that Shepard approached, her lips parting in anticipation.

"Is this what I think it is?" she asked, laying a hand atop the nearest one. When she looked over her shoulder, Liara merely offered a nod. "I tried to source some of this stuff for the crew on the SR-1, then I heard they went bust-" Shepard narrowed her eyes as she recognised the unreadable expression on Liara's face for what it was – knowledge. "They didn't go bust at all. Did they?"

"You can speculate later," Liara chastised her gently as she went through the motions of keying the lock on one crate. "When we are not on a time limit. You will find everything you need here, all customised to your individual specifications."

Everything was vacuum packed, denying Shepard a visual of her new armour. Any thoughts of joking about aesthetics were pushed to the back of her mind. If anyone was going to ensure that she wore nothing but the best, it was her bondmate. After all, Liara was as invested in her personal safety as she herself was.

"Thanks, Li," Shepard said as she began divesting the crate of its contents, slinging the largest pack over her shoulder, while carrying two others. "Can I leave you to it? Ash is doing her best to hold herself together, but I'll feel better if I'm there with her."

Liara offered a business-like nod in reply. "We will follow momentarily. My gear is also good to go, it should not be difficult to find something to suit Samara."

"My current attire is serviceable," Samara pointed out.

"It may very well be, but it's also distinctive," Shepard replied. "There's a very real possibly that we'll encounter Alliance forces. To avoid anything going down we need to look as nondescript as possible." At Samara's acquiescent nod, Shepard turned her attention back to her gear. "Myke, can you give me a hand with these cases?"

"Gimme a sec. I think I've got this on back-to-front."

Myke had opened another of the cases and was struggling to fasten a chestplate in place. It wasn't back-to-front, but was several sizes too large for her small frame. Shepard uttered an exasperated snort. While Myke's antics were usually a source of levity she enjoyed, there was no place for them in the present circumstances. She retrieved the chestplate from Myke's grasp and threw it back into its crate. In its place, she pressed one of the cases forcibly into Myke's arms. The young asari stumbled slightly under its weight.

"We don't have time to fuck around, Kasos," Shepard said over her shoulder as she left the warehouse. Myke was left to catch up as best she could. "This isn't a game."

Myke wasn't deterred. "Hey! I know how serious this is, and I also know you need all the help you can get. I'm coming with you."

"No way in hell," Shepard growled. "It's much too dangerous."

"Yeah, and I'm prepared to face the risks-"

Shepard whirled on Myke. "This isn't about you and what you're prepared to do. Honestly, I don't want to be looking over my shoulder at every turn, wondering if you're safe. It'll get us both killed." Shepard forced herself to find a measure of calm. Regardless of her error in judgement, Myke didn't deserve anger. "Look…Myke, I admire your intentions. No one can question your courage, but I can't let you come with us and I can't afford to waste another minute talking about it. The time we waste here could potentially costs lives. I had hoped you would realise that."

"Don't patronise me!" Myke snapped in reply. Her lower lip was trembling, making her look every inch a child. "I know exactly what's happening and I'm not asking for special treatment." She looked away as tears of frustration welled in her eyes. "Carry your own bloody case then, Shepard!"

As she struggled to hold the case that was thrust back into her grasp, Myke left Shepard without a further word. Shepard felt a pang of distress, but she couldn't afford to dwell on the situation. Her mind was already shifting to other matters as she resumed walking.

There would be time to make things right with Myke when she returned.

* * *

 

It was a textbook study of how a situation could change in an instant. Ash had been lingering in the warm glow of Miranda's forgiveness when, in an instant, ice had been flushed through her entire body. Joy was cruelly replaced by dread. Hope by fear. Even now, with the _Normandy_ a frenzied hive of activity around her, she remembered receiving Shepard's message with startling clarity.

Alliance colonies were in immediate danger. That was frightening enough. Everything had been thrown into chaos when Shepard named the colonies. Ash heard Mindoir and felt like throwing up. When Shepard named Chasca, her stomach had actually lurched. It was as though someone in the Galaxy was conspiring against her, throwing up a problem that seemed to have no solution. For all her power and proficiency _, Normandy's_ Captain could never be in two places at once.

"Cortez!"

Ash's voice reverberated in the _Normandy's_ docking bay as she signalled out the burly Lieutenant. She heard each strike of her boots on the deck. Forceful and impatient. The need for urgency was reflected in everything she did, especially in the tone of her voice. Cortez glanced up from his work immediately, not even pausing to wipe the beads of sweat rolling down his face.

"Ma'am?"

Cortez's expression was one of determination. It reminded Ash that this clusterfuck wasn't just her problem. The entire crew had her back. Several were in the same position as Ash, personally invested with friends and family living in the at-risk colonies. This was no time to play the role of benevolent commanding officer. She needed to assess the entire situation and make a strategic decision. Under no circumstances could she let personal feelings sway her decision.

Absolutely not.

Ash felt her fingernails dig into the palms of both hands. She returned her focus to the present, away from the well of panic that lingered just below her veneer control.

"Sitrep, Lieutenant."

To make matters difficult for Cortez, Ash continued walking through the expanse of the shuttle bay towards the lowered ramp. She deftly avoided the steady stream of incoming traffic – loaders, dock workers, and _Normandy_ personnel – as she headed towards the hive of activity on the dock. Cortez had to break into a gentle jog to catch up.

"I've prioritised essential munitions, but with the bulk of resources directed towards engineering, we're going to be short."

"As expected," Ash replied coolly. "I don't care if the crew needs to go onto half rations, I do care if the _Normandy_ can't get us to where we need to go. Thermal clips, medigel and other combat essentials only, Cortez. We're leaving at 0730."

Cortez checked his chrono. "Half an hour? Ma'am…"

"0730," Ash interrupted without sympathy. "Get it done, Lieutenant."

It wouldn't be enough time, but Ash felt the passage of each minute with a growing sense of dread. Her conversation with Alliance HQ had been tense and brief, but she had garnered enough from Admiral Mikhailovich to know that their response time would be less than optimal. Ash found it effortless to block the Admiral's fury from her mind. She couldn't care less that the _Normandy_ had missed a couple of flypasts, not to mention that she had been out of contact for almost a month. The fact that she had cut him off mid-tirade indicated just how little she did care. Politics had never been something she understood, nor had sought to understand, but even her soldier's understanding could see that the Alliance's aggressive, hard-line stance was to blame for any conflict.

Although she desperately wanted to take a minute out of the chaos to stop, think and gather her thoughts, Ash didn't have time. She allowed herself a few deep breaths and the feeling of reassurance that came automatically when she saw Shepard approaching. Her former CO was effortlessly lugging three large cases and a rifle, all the while wearing the calm expression that Ash remembered so well.

Shepard greeted her with a business-like nod. "Where are we at?"

"HQ is a fucking mess." Ash scrubbed at her forehead. "Mikhailovich actually wasted time trying to bring me up on charge instead of concentrating on the mess at hand. They're responding, but we're the vanguard – especially in regard to the colonies in the Traverse and the edge of Alliance space. They're prioritising those colonies with the largest populations, which means Mindoir and Chasca will be in the firing line."

Shepard nodded again, as though the whole damn thing actually made some sort of sense. "Have you been able to get through to Miranda?"

"No, comms are down across the board. A message came through earlier indicating that there was nothing out of the ordinary." Ash instinctively savoured the memory. Miranda's voice. The forgiveness. "Shepard…" She paused, bit her lip. This was a call she had to make. A choice she had to make. "I have absolutely no authority to order you to do anything, but I'm asking as a friend…as someone I trust more than life itself. I need you to take the _Pserimos_ to Mindoir. Please."

There was no hesitation. Shepard reached out and placed a hand firmly on Ash's shoulder. "There's no need to say please, Ash. If that's where you need me to be, I'm there." Shepard managed a small smile. "Although in all seriousness, I feel for any attacking force that has to go up against both Jack and Miranda."

Ash couldn't sum up any attempt at humour. She sighed wearily as she stared at her friend. "This is fucked up. It's been less than a year since the Reapers and it feels like we're going to war all over again. Last time around I was still able to do my job. This time…I can't think about anything other than losing my family, Shepard." She shook her head. "I can't lose Miranda. I _won't_."

Shepard's fingers squeezed a little more firmly. "Ash, that's not going to happen. You've never seen Jack and Miranda in action together. They're completely incompatible, but somehow it works. I can't tell you the number of times those two saved our arses while we were fighting the Collectors. Even when the shit hits the fan, caring about people doesn't mean you've lost your ability to do your job."

At that point Ash did manage a small smile. It was fleeting, but she needed to convey her gratitude. The moment was interrupted by a whirlwind in the form of Kurin. The asari Captain was wearing her leathers, with a Carnifex and an SMG already strapped to her thighs as though she was ready to step into the fray immediately. She swept between the two, with barely any regard for Shepard before she rounded angrily on Ash.

"I've got less than a dozen commandos, Williams. How the hell do you expect me to go up against a force of any size?"

"You'll have Shepard-"

"And Liara," Shepard interjected quickly.

"Forgive me if I'm not exactly oozing optimism here," Kurin continued, hardly impressed by the prospect of such a duo joining her crew. "We need more time! More troops."

Kurin was simply stating the obvious, but Ash felt her jaw tighten in anger. "Where the hell am I going to find more of either, Kurin?" Her tone was uncompromising, and she felt nothing. Not even when she saw the young asari's expression falter for a moment. "If you're going to spout some bullshit about how this isn't your fight, then bloody well get it out of the way now."

Shepard coughed a gentle warning. "Ash."

"Goddess, Williams. I didn't realise you thought so little of me." Kurin shook her head slowly, eyes suddenly shining with either fury or unshed tears. "This isn't an asari fight – in fact, we'd do well to stay clear – but I'm doing this for you. Not out of any misguided attempt to win you-" The asari cut herself off mid-sentence, with a furtive glance towards Shepard. She turned to leave, speaking over her shoulder, "I'm making this my fight, although you're a fucking idiot. And I'm going to get us more troops."

Both Ash and Shepard watched the asari captain break into a run, dodging loaders and dockworkers, with a few choice epithets for those who didn't move out of her way. Ash felt wretched, even more so when she found Shepard looking at her with a disappointed expression.

"We're up against it, and you take the time to piss off the one ally who's actually willing to help?"

"I'll apologise when this shitstorm has cleared," Ash replied tersely. "Are we good, Shepard?"

"Always, Ash." Shepard offered up a small nod. "I'll be in touch en route. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

Shepard watched for a few moments as Ash resumed her focus on the hive of activity around the _Normandy_. It was blatantly obvious just how tightly wound _Normandy's_ Captain was. Ash wasn't herself. Shepard feared that her friend was at the point of breaking, but there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Not while they were all poised on the precipice with so much at stake. She needed to trust that Ash could handle anything that was thrown at her.

"T'fuck outta my way, you daft bitch!"

The irate driver of a loader didn't bother to slow his machine as he careened past, allowing Shepard barely enough time to leap out of the way with her gear in tow. She shrugged it off without even an angry glance. It was her fault for lingering in the middle of all the chaos. She needed to stow her gear aboard the _Pserimos_ and find out where the hell Kurin had run off to.

"Shepard?"

An urgent shout claimed her attention. Shepard turned to find Traynor running towards her. The Ops Chief was so completely out of breath, that she struggled to speak in between gasps for air. "Myke…I can't find Myke."

Traynor doubled over as soon as she stopped, propping herself up with her hands on her knees. It reminded Shepard that she too had an apology to make when all of this was over. _If all of this is ever over._ She remembered the recent promise she'd made to Myke. Despite everything, she wouldn't allow herself to doubt her ability to make that world a reality.

In that moment, she had a good guess as to exactly where Myke would have gone. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be what Traynor wanted to hear.

"I'm sorry, Sam. Myke…she wanted to come with us. I had to say no," Shepard explained. "I'm pretty certain she'll be hiding in her old refuge, but it'd take more time than you have to get there."

Traynor struggled to bring her emotions under control. Her responding nod was short and sharp. "Shit." Her lower lip trembled for a moment. "Thank you, Shepard. It was right that you said she couldn't come. Shit, I just wanted to say…"

"Sam, pull yourself together." Shepard's voice was hard, but it wasn't cold. "Whatever you wanted to say to her, Myke knows already. She's head over heels for you. The two of you will find each other again. Okay?"

Sam managed a determined nod.

"Now get to your ship, Chief, before your CO has you up for dereliction of duty."

"Yes, ma'am – I mean, Shepard," Traynor responded smartly.

"And Sam?" When Shepard swallowed, she found her throat suddenly dry. "Promise you'll keep an eye on Ash for me. Keep her safe."

"You're asking me to keep _Ashley Williams_ safe?" Sam asked in disbelief.

"She needs someone to keep her grounded, I can't think of anyone better suited to the job than you."

* * *

 

Kurin vaguely heard Aria's pet Batarian shout something in her direction as she bounded up the stairs two at a time. She didn't bother to give him the courtesy of even a dismissive stare or reply. Instead she kept moving upwards, trying to ignore the raging fear coursing through her body. She eventually gave up trying. Regardless of anything that might have existed been between her and the Queen of Omega, Kurin knew she was right to be afraid.

The only consolation about the whole sorry state was that it was enough to forget about Ashley's words – or at least take the sting out of them.

Aria wasn't alone. The Queen was surrounded by an array of bootlicking supplicants. Asari, Turians, Krogan, a couple of humans and one very eager looking vorcha. Aria lounged on her sofa. An exceptionally plain asari wearing only the barest suggestion of clothing was draped over her. Kurin suppressed an irrational surge of jealously. She had no desire to claim such a position for herself. Drawing herself to her full, albeit inadequate, height Kurin regarded the throng with unconcealed disdain.

"Leave us!"

Thankfully her bellow emerged as intended, and not as the terrified squawk she imagined in her head. Kurin wasn't surprised when no one, not even the half-naked asari on Aria's lap, made an effort to move. Instead they simply looked to Aria, no doubt eagerly waiting to see how she would deal with the intruder who clearly didn't know her place. Kurin tilted her chin forward and held her ground, issuing a determined challenge to Aria through her stare. It was a stand-off. The air was heavy with tension. Kurin hovered on the verge of panic. Flight was all she could think about, but it wasn't a luxury she could allow herself.

Finally, a break. Aria jerked her chin upwards. The movement was barely perceptible, but it had an immediate effect. In the space of mere seconds, the balcony emptied of warm bodies save for Kurin and Aria. The asari that had moments earlier been enjoying Aria's favour offered up a murderous expression, but Kurin had no time for such pettiness. Her focus remained on Aria.

Uncoiling like a predator, Aria rose to her feet. It was the only warning Kurin had before she was encased in raw biotic power. Kurin found herself thrown backwards. A grunt of surprise escaped her lips as her body slammed into something solid and unmoving. With her eyes watering from the sudden pain, Kurin was pinned helplessly as Aria approached.

While Omega's Queen was sheathed in blue, her expression remained chillingly calm. It was a calculated façade. Beneath the calm, Kurin knew that Aria was bridling her fury. At the point that Aria finally stopped moving, Kurin could see her reflection in the icy orbs of Aria's eyes. She could clearly see her own fear.

"If I wasn't so concerned about the mess, I'd gut you in an instant." Aria concealed nothing in her sharp-edged tone. "Who am I fucking kidding? I don't give a fuck about the mess." Her lip twisted into an amused sneer. "However I am feeling slightly benevolent. You've got about thirty seconds to explain what that little act was all about. Who the hell do you think you are? Embarrassing me in front of my guests?"

Kurin felt slightly giddy, as though she was no longer in complete control of her body but rather was looking down on someone else. That someone else was a rash fool with a death wish.

"That bunch of sycophants? When did the Queen of Omega start caring about what others think of her? Is that what you want? To have idiots crawling around you, hanging on your every word, but not offering an iota of personality in return?" Kurin demanded. "That's not what you want."

Aria's arm shot out. Vice-like fingers wrapped around Kurin's throat, squeezing mercilessly. Kurin gasped for breath but Aria responded by tightening her grip. "And you presume to know what I want? You think I want you, little soldier? Look at you squirming. I only have to keep squeezing and I could end you here and now. It's pathetic."

Black spots were punctuating her vision by the time Aria finally let go. Kurin was unable to contain the resulting gasps as she gratefully sucked in gulps of air. Her throat felt raw and bruised, just like her confidence. All she could do was hang limply in Aria's biotic field, trussed up like a prime piece of meat.

_Aria was right, you are pathetic,_ Kurin thought. Even as the older asari cruelly taunted her, she felt the unmistakable pangs of sexual longing. Then she reminded herself of Ashley's words. Just as cruel. Possibly even more so because she loved Ashley, while she was merely infatuated with the Queen of Omega. _I'm a bloody Kurin, not some sap who can be walked over at whim!_

"Even if you don't want me," Kurin began, meeting Aria's gaze with steel of her own. "Which I don't believe, I know exactly what you want. You want peace…prosperity. A Galaxy where you can peddle Omega's eezo without the threat of organisations like Cerberus."

Aria scowled. "Big fucking deal. I like credits."

Kurin swallowed. Took a risk. "And you like Shepard. Regardless of this impenetrable persona you've created for yourself. Otherwise you would've sold both her and Liara T'Soni off to the highest bidder months ago. Why stop at harbouring her? Help her. You know exactly what's happening. The human colonies that are being threatened. You have ships and troops."

The resulting laugh was heartily laden with scorn. "I'm not a galactic charity, especially not when it comes to saving humans from their own folly. They made their beds, now they can fucking lie in them," Aria said. However, she turned her back at that point. Kurin couldn't see her face when she continued. "Shepard's an idealistic fool, if she wants to get herself killed then I'm not about to stop her."

"She's our best chance for peace."

"And what does Asari High Command think about your little crusade?" Aria asked, still facing in the opposite direction. Some of the scorn had disappeared from her tone.

"Fuck them. We can't bury our heads in the sand and think the consequences won't affect us. Just as you can't, Aria. If you do, then you're the only fool around here."

Aria spun. Her teeth were bared in a rictus of fury that she made no effort to hide. If Kurin had been able to move, she would have fled. Once again she felt ruthless fingers closing around her neck. This time however came the realisation that she'd pushed the Queen of Omega too far. Her eyes slid closed as she prepared for the grasp to tighten. In her slightly deranged state, Kurin almost thought of it as a mercy, putting an end to the miserable existence she now found herself living.

_What did I expect? This is Aria T'Loak, not some mere_ – Kurin had barely noticed the grip around her throat relax before she found her lips crushed beneath Aria's. There was nothing remotely tender about the kiss. It was harsh, bruising. Kurin responded, if only out of some sort of primal instinct…and she was powerless to do much of anything else. Aria's touch shifted, instead moving to cup Kurin's face possessively.

The field that had kept Kurin pinned suddenly vanished. With the restraint gone, Kurin's whole body slumped forward into Aria. Somewhere her mind registered surprise as she found the embrace almost soft. That thought barely had time to take hold before Aria placed one hand on her chest and drove her back against the surface behind her. Kurin was now pinned by the equally unyielding force of Aria T'Loak. However, her hands were free to do with as she dared. One she placed unobtrusively on Aria's hip, however the other rose to caress the sensitive spot that all asari possessed at the nape of their necks. Her fingers trailed firmly over the soft folds of skin. When she felt Aria respond with a sight tremor, Kurin dared to feel a little bold. Regardless of whatever words were said, she knew that she possessed some small hold over the Queen of Omega.

When Aria pulled back, Kurin met her gaze with calm determination. She found no trace of empathy, only a burning hunger. Kurin realised that her hold was minute indeed.

"Does this mean you'll help us?"

Aria smirked and reached up to pat Kurin on the cheek. "No, little soldier. This simply means that I'm fond of you enough to let you live."

Kurin shook her head. "But-"

"But nothing. This is not my fight," Aria growled firmly. She waved her hand dismissively. "Now run along. If, by some miracle, you survive then you and I might be able to explore this a little further."

"You..." Kurin shook her head. She felt her lip tremble. "You selfish Goddess-damned cunt! You're condemning people to die."

"Is that the best you can do?" Aria laughed. She shifted her weight onto one side and propped her hand on her hip as though everything was simply amusing. "You think I care about anyone dying?"

With a grunt of fury, Kurin turned to leave. She glanced over her shoulder. "Maybe it's time you started caring."

* * *

 

**Mindoir, Attican Traverse**

Despite the heavy layers she wore, Miranda felt chilled to the bone. She tugged her collar closed, fastening it tight to keep the cold from seeping downwards. It was all more than enough to remind her exactly why she'd spent most of her life in the climate controlled confines of starships and space stations. On Mindoir the weather didn't respond to the touch of a few buttons. It was raw and real. On one level she felt more alive, and slightly virtuous for getting back in touch with nature. On another, she was miserable.

Then the taste of salt reminded her of the near constant stream of fluid running from her nose. Miranda dabbed at it thoroughly with a handkerchief - an item that she had previously never had cause to use. Her genetics ought to have made it impossible for her to catch a cold. However here she was, constantly wiping snot from her red, raw nose. _Bloody Mindoiran germs._

"Thanks for this." She nodded to Finch.

"Don't mention it, ma'am." Finch grinned awkwardly.

Finch was just a kid. Barely nineteen. He still had difficulty looking Miranda in the eye. "My Mum's kind of old-fashioned. She made me pack at least a dozen….and extra socks and underwear-" His cheeks flamed red and he looked away again.

Miranda smiled as she walked. As miserable as she was, she had to admit that her feelings toward her current situation were changing. While she couldn't go as far as to say that she enjoyed garrison life, she had found a sort of peace. There were moments of late were she allowed herself to imagine Ash joining her. Mindoir was still rustic in every sense of the word and the temperature plummeted during the winters, but she could almost see a life for herself. Albeit a far simpler one than she was used to, but that had a distinct appeal.

"Your Mum doesn't sound old-fashioned," Miranda commented. "It sounds like she cares about you. It can't be easy for her with you being posted all the way out here."

"No, ma'am," Finch replied quickly, clearly nervous that Miranda was still talking to him.

They continued walking in silence for a minute. Several of her squad members passed them, all eager to get back to the warmth as quickly as possible. Despite the cold, Miranda realised she was drawing out the patrol. An excuse to be outside rather than attend to the mounting admin work that Jack had so gleefully delegated to her. Miranda had long since ceased to be surprised about her own indifference to such tedium. There used to be a time where her lack of efficiency would have weighed heavily, now she had learned that such bureaucracy meant little.

"Do you have family, ma'am?" Finch suddenly blurted out. He then bit his lip, as though thinking better of his attempt at conversation. "Sorry, just me being nosy."

"It's fine," Miranda said honestly. "And no, I don't. My father was killed during the War and I didn't have…" Miranda paused. _Everyone_ had a mother. "I never knew my mother."

"My Dad died in the War too," Finch replied, almost eagerly as he was clearly pleased to find he had something in common with the enigmatic Miranda Lawson. "He was stationed on Arcturus. It's why I joined up as soon as I could."

Miranda nodded congenially. She wasn't about to share the circumstances of Henry Lawson's demise, nor her regret that she had not been the one to kill him.

"Ma'am…do you mind if I ask you something?

She regarded him with a level stare. "No, but only if you drop the ma'am."

"Some of the guys, they say that you worked for… _Cerberus_ before the War." He uttered the name in a whisper, as though it were somehow tainted. "Then I heard someone say that you knew the Shepard, that you were part of the _Normandy_ crew."

A small sigh escaped Miranda's lips. "What if both were true? Would it make any difference?"

Finch frowned in confusion. "Both…and even just one. It means that you are someone. Yet you're here with us grunts, slumming it on garrison duty. You don't belong here."

"Thanks for that, Finch." A wry smile creased her face.

"Oh!" The young man appeared mortified. "I didn't mean…I just meant that you're better than this…than us. I mean…just look at you."

Miranda felt her nose streaming again and her smile became a self-deprecating laugh. Henry Lawson had created her to be better than people like Finch. For a long time she'd believed in her own perfection. It had ruled every aspect of her life, creating a person who was both unapproachable, and unpleasant to be around. Shepard had acted as a catalyst for change in her life. Slowly chipping away at her exterior, albeit with all the aggravating tactics of which Shepard was so fond.

Then Ash had invaded her life with all the finesse of a dreadnought, knocking down the walls altogether.

"I'm just one person, no better than the next marine."

Even as she said it, Miranda almost managed to convince herself that she believed what she was saying. Then a small voice at the back of her mind reminded her how and why she had been created. She _literally_ was better than the next marine. Although perhaps not in every sense of the word.

"Can I ask you what the Shepard was like?" Finch ventured tentatively.

Miranda had answered the question before, but knowing that Shepard was alive changed everything. The words couldn't roll off her tongue as easily as they had. As she was struggling to think of something mundane, she saw Jack approaching. Even from a distance, she could see that Captain Zero was oddly agitated. She turned to Finch. "She was a pain in the arse."

"Cheerleader!" Jack's voice grated, fraying Miranda's good mood. "Bout time you showed your bubbly butt back at base!"

Miranda rolled her eyes. Some things would never, ever change.

"Does the Captain actually like you?" Finch asked in a whisper. "It's hard to tell."

"'Like' is far too mundane a word to be applied to my relationship with Jack." Miranda murmured. She was feeling oddly talkative, reasoning that it had something to do with the fact that she was enjoying an actual conversation as opposed to the verbal sparring matches she shared with Jack. "I'd be more inclined to say it's a mutual loathing tempered with a measure of respect."

"Captain." Finch managed a reasonably competent salute as Jack marched up to them.

"Finch, nice to see ya. Now piss off and give me a moment with the Lieutenant."

Finch nodded all too quickly. He broke into a run to catch up with a couple of his fellow marines who were walking ahead. He offered one last, sympathetic, glance over his shoulder. Miranda also kept walking, wondering what she'd done now to deserve the pleasure of Jack's company.

"Taking time to smell the roses, Lawson?" Jack asked as she fell into step beside Miranda.

"Even if there were any roses to smell, Jack, my nose feels like it's about to fall off," Miranda replied, a trace of petulance creeping into her tone. She checked her chrono. "We're an hour late due a detour to the Riddell homestead. Their generator failed a couple of days ago. I thought I would check in on them and ensure they were all okay."

"Hey, that's fucking lovely. I'm not saying anything about you being late. Although you could've taken one of the Grizzlys."

"One's out of action, the other constantly smells like fuel," Miranda replied. She was anxious to get inside and have a warm meal. "Was there a point to your little greeting, or is this just your daily attempt to piss me off?"

Jack held up her hands in surrender. "Were you always this quick to accuse?"

"No quicker than you," Miranda retorted.

The smaller woman stopped walking. With both hands propped on her hips and a serious expression on her face, Jack actually looked as though she was completely serious. Miranda ignored both her nose and her rumbling stomach to focus on her CO. Her nose was running yet again.

"Some serious shit's going down, Lawson." Jack kept her voice low as the rest of Miranda's squad trudged past on their way to the mess. "The comms blackout? I'm pretty good at sniffing out trouble, and this stinks worse than a Krogan taking his armour off."

"Jack, we already know the Alliance is crooked-"

"No." Jack shook her head and shifted furtively from one foot to the other. "Nothing to do with the Alliance…except maybe as a result of the shit they've pulled lately. Without wanting to stir up a varren's nest, I'd say Mindoir's gonna be hit."

Miranda's first instinct was to snort disparagingly at Jack's deduction. After all, she was talking to the psychotic biotic. The woman whose idea of body armour used to be a couple of straps and an oversized pair of trousers. Then she realised that her response was driven by spiteful disbelief, that Jack had been the one to connect the dots and not her.

Once she accepted the validity of the assumption, she felt a chill pass through her entire body and settle in the pit of her stomach. More for something to do with her hands, she took out her handkerchief and blew her nose.

"And we've got next to no early warning systems, no orbital defence." Miranda tucked the handkerchief away as she frowned, deep in thought. She realised Jack was staring at her in shock. "What?"

"You're going with it, what I said? Just like that?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I thought you'd wanna look into it further. Y'know...waste half a day finding out some actual evidence?"

Miranda shook her head resolutely. "I trust your instincts, Jack."

"Well fuck me."

"Jack…I need you to focus," Miranda said impatiently. "If we make a call and it turns out to be wrong, we're going to cause a hell of a lot of people to be scared for no reason."

"I'm sure they'd rather be scared than dead." Jack stated the obvious in a matter-of-fact tone.

An idea hit. "A drill," Miranda murmured. She turned to Jack with a fierce expression on her face. "It's Mindoir for Christ's sake. The colony should have regular drills. We're instigating it...starting now. Full scale evacuation."

"Okay, since you've finally kicked into Cheerleader mode, where the fuck are we going to evacuate them to?"

Miranda only needed to ponder that question for a moment before a memory flitted into her mind. The encounter with the nathak that had left her humiliated and two of her squad dead during her first week on Mindoir. She cast her gaze northward.

"That mountain range to the north is criss-crossed with caves. There will be colonists who know them, well enough at least to find shelter." It wasn't the greatest idea she'd ever had, but it was better than standing around doing nothing.

"What kind of a shit plan is that? You'd have them walk into their motherfucking tomb!" Jack protested.

"We're not going to let that happen." The ice in Miranda's stomach had long since become a burning rage. She didn't want to die on Mindoir, but her conscience couldn't leave thousands of innocent people in harm's way. "The garrison is going to act as a diversion. Whoever or whatever is coming, we're going to cause so much hurt that they're going to wish they never set foot on Mindoir." She turned to look at Jack and her lips curled into a sardonic smile. "You up for that?"

Jack bared her teeth. It might have been a grin. "I was born for that."

* * *

 

**Chasca, Matano**

Sarah Williams could already visualise her view before she lifted the blackout curtain – that pale light that inhabited a world just after the sun had departed, or before it rose. She stared out across New Lima's dusty streets, remembering her first weeks in post when she momentarily forgot where she was and expected the sun to rise. Sarah wasn't sure which she missed most, the soothing blanket of darkness at night, or the vibrancy of sunlight.

_A couple of minutes yet_ , she thought as she checked the time. While she was waiting, Sarah busied herself attending to morning details around her studio flat – a pot of coffee, ensuring she was at least presentable. She knew Abby and Lynn would fuss if she looked remotely tired or unhappy.

The call came through right on time – almost to the second. Abby was always punctual. Whatever worries Sarah had were pushed to the back of her mind as both Abby and Lynn's faces appeared. Her sisters were pressed close to the screen, filling it with their smiles.

"Hey guys." Sarah offered up a small, unnecessary wave. "How's things?"

"We're good," Abby replied quickly. She yelped as Lynn elbowed her off-screen. "What? We are!"

"Abigail has been taking her role as elder middle sister a little too seriously," Lynn pointed out. "What she really meant to say is that she's still worried about Ash."

"Well, her message was light on details," Sarah replied.

Several weeks earlier Ash had sent a terse email to all three of them. It simply stated that she was safe and she would be in touch soon. There had been no further news since. Granted, it wasn't unusual for their eldest sister to drop out of contact in her line of work, but Ash had always tried to give them as many details as she could.

Sarah caught her lower lip with her teeth, chewing anxiously for a moment. No matter what system Ash was in, she was the glue that held their family together.

"I caught a report on ANN late last night. The _Normandy_ is apparently fighting pirates on the edge of Alliance space. I smelt bullshit straight away," Lynn added. "I'd bet credits on her being shacked up with Miranda somewhere."

"This isn't remotely funny," Abby said with a pointed glance at Lynn. "Instead of speculating, I actually emailed Miranda yesterday. If anyone has further news, it'll be her."

"Good plan." Although Sarah had not had the privilege of meeting the woman who had captured her sister's heart in person, Sarah liked Miranda Lawson immensely. In the messages they'd exchanged, Miranda came across as warm and friendly, albeit scarily intelligent. Most importantly, she could see that Miranda genuinely loved Ash. "I reckon they're okay though. I heard from Leon as well-"

Lynn predictably interrupted with a quiet whoop.

"-it was just as brief, but mentioning that their location is classified. Get that look off your face, Lynn!"

"What looks? I'm genuinely happy for you, baby sis. Not so much for Abby and I, we're going to end up as two old spinster sisters."

"Speak for yourself," Abby interjected. "I'm sure as hell not spending the rest of my life living with you. I'd go stark raving-"

Sarah frowned as the video feed suddenly descended into static, interrupting Abby mid-sentence. She waited for the contact to reinitialise, but instead the channel cut out altogether. Sarah was left staring hopelessly at the 'lost signal' message fixed on the screen. She couldn't help the small sigh that escaped. It was a conversation she'd been looking forward to all week, but now there was nothing to do but move on with her day.

The small clinic where Sarah worked remained quiet for much of the day. New Lima, Chasca's nominal capital, was still a relatively small settlement. The population of colonists, scientists, and Alliance personnel numbered less than 500. Most were clustered together, only the hardier souls ventured out to farm the narrow belt of habitable terrain. The land was barely arable, and the farms were all still in the experimental stage, producing small yields.

Sarah had to admit that the planet itself was fascinating. Their colony existed in the space between two extremes – scorching heat, and hostile cold. The practicality of their presence however continued to nag at the back of her mind. With the level of casualties inflicted during the Reaper War, there was no shortage of land to go around. Rich, productive agricultural land was lying dormant on Eden Prime, Mindoir and Horizon, yet colonists chose to come to Chasca. Sarah suspected it was because the landscape was untouched, undamaged by war. It had experienced none of the horrors of other human colonies. Life was peaceful…and dead boring.

"Williams?"

Sarah was internally debating the impact that a transfer request would have on her career when her thoughts were interrupted by Major Jansen, the clinic's doctor. She fixed an expression of polite attentiveness on her face and looked up from her work.

"We're dead in here. Why don't you finish up your shift early? Grab a drink," Jansen suggested.

"If it's all the same with you, I'd rather finish processing these samples."

The sad truth was that Sarah preferred her work and her own company to the often uninspiring company of Chasca's colonists. She'd very quickly discovered that she was amongst insular, often xenophobic people. There were very few other veterans.

Sarah kept to herself, maintaining sanity through frequent calls to Abby and Lynn, and emails to Ash and Miranda. Surprisingly, the latter replied frequently and eloquently. Her eldest sister's messages were just as rare and brief as always.

Jansen fixed her a warm smile. The guy was nice enough. "Suit yourself. Just remember to have a little fun every now and then."

_Fun_ , Sarah thought as the doctor left the room. _Unlikely_. Her current idea of fun was counting the days until her next leave was due, leave she planned to spend with Leon Grenier. _Normandy's_ XO was still practically a stranger, albeit an incredibly handsome one. Sarah desperately wanted to remedy that through a few lengthy conversations…and more kissing. Definitely more kissing.

_And potentially more_. A warm blush spread across both cheeks. It seemed an age since Tom, but not so long since she had thought that she would never recover from his death. Alongside her sisters, Leon offered potential for a future beyond the War.

A piercing wail suddenly rent the air, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. Startled, Sarah dropped the delicate instrument in her hand. It clattered onto the table, and then to the floor where it smashed into small pieces.

"Fuck," she hissed irritably, annoyed at herself for ruining the sample.

It was merely a test of New Lima's warning system, something that took place every Thursday afternoon. Aside from an annoying irritation, it was easily ignored as everyone went about their daily business. However as Sarah was doing her best to mop up her mess, she frowned in confusion. Wasn't it only Wednesday? The days on Chasca did have a tendency to meld into one another, but surely things had not become so bad that she didn't know what day it was. She shrugged off her concern and went to retrieve the steriliser.

The wail continued, far past the point where it ordinarily would have ceased. It was almost eerie, seeming to increase in intensity the longer it went on. Something compelled Sarah to stop moving, her fingers poised in the act of reaching for the appliance. In her mind she started going over safety procedures in her head.

As suddenly as it started, the wail stopped. In the silence that followed, Sarah could still hear it ringing in her ears. It created a dissonant chorus when combined with her thudding heartbeat and urgent, almost panicked breaths. Sarah paused and drew in a deep breath, smiling a little to herself at her own foolishness. She hadn't realised the extent to which she had adjusted to life during peacetime.

Perhaps she would take Dr Jansen up on his offer and leave early. After all, the comms problem ought to have been fixed. If she hurried home, she could possibly catch Lynn and Abby before they left for work. With the prospect of resuming her chat with her sisters on her mind, Sarah hastened to finish cleaning her mess – even going as far as to hum a tuneless little whistle to take her mind off her frayed nerves.

There was an odd, jarring sound in the distance. It wasn't overly unusual, sounding like heavy construction work. A flash of orange light drew Sarah's attention to the window. The sounds grew louder, increasing in frequency. They were interspersed with quieter, rapid retorts. Sarah's eyes widened as she recognised the song being played.

It was gunfire.

Sarah scrambled to her feet. She heard shouts of alarm go up throughout the rest of the building. Her name was being called. Then everything erupted in a shower of glass shards and heat. An abrupt cry was all that escaped her lips before some invisible force swept her off her feet and hurled her backwards. She felt bursts of pain as her body slammed into a glass-fronted cabinet. Like a limp doll, Sarah then flopped to the floor with the dark tendrils of unconsciousness clawing away.

The last thing she heard before she sank into the welcome embrace of nothingness was more gunfire and urgent, angry footsteps closing in on her.

 


	42. Wrong Kind of Trouble

**AHC _Pserimos_ , Attican Traverse**

The last gauntlet snapped snugly into place with a satisfyingly familiar sound. Shepard flexed her fingers, then her whole arm, before taking several steps forward. On a whim, she drove herself forward in a sudden burst of speed. The confines of the _Pserimos'_ cargo bay soon brought her up short, but it was enough to hint at the potential of the Jorgamund armour.

The suit fit like a glove. It had been a pain in the arse to put on, but undoubtedly worth it. Less bulky than her old N7 or Kassa Fabrications suits, the ceramic plating felt as though it moulded to her body. The plates slotted together in a complex design that was both rigid and flexible, leaving none of the traditional weak spots. From an entirely inane point of view, matt black suited her in a way that red and gold never had.

As she walked back to the weapons bench, Shepard ran through a complete diagnostic. The display flashed up on her visor. Shields, storm speed, hand-to-hand capabilities - everything a soldier needed was at the upper limit of what was technologically possible.

It was perfect. After all, Shepard was quite fond of living.

Any exhilaration she might have felt at being back in armour was tempered by the situation. There was no time for a harmless jaunt or any sort of practice. This was it. The array of munitions she'd laid out on the bench was intended to inflict as much damage as possible. On armour, on flesh - Shepard didn't care. Having learnt from experience, she strapped additional frag grenades to her webbing...and one more, just in case. The only element that didn't quite fit the picture was the battered Cerberus Harrier that Myke had given her. She'd sanded it back to its original gunmetal giving it a crude, unfinished appearance. It worked perfectly though, and Shepard wouldn't have traded it for any weapon in the world.

The Harrier made her think about Myke. Guilt still lingered over the way she'd behaved towards her friend. However, regardless of how terrible she felt, Shepard couldn't afford to dwell on it. _I'd feel a hell of a lot worse if something happened to that crazy kid._

Shepard removed her helmet and placed the Harrier down on the workbench. She picked up her backup weapon – a heavily modified M-11 Wraith – balancing its weight in her palms. In the past she'd favoured sniper rifles or heavy pistols as secondary weapons, but both relied on precision. Her range scores had always been excellent but not extraordinary. She would never be in the same league as Ash or Garrus, hence her preference for rapid fire weapons. A change in tactics was long overdue. Hence the shotgun.

The Wraith was brutal at close range and modified with a three-shot clip as opposed to the usual two. The modification added weight, but she considered it a worthwhile trade-off. _Vega would have been proud_ , Shepard thought. She'd butted heads with the burly Lieutenant on more than one occasion, but he'd been a damn fine marine who knew his way around an armoury.

"I used to think you were a fraud."

Shepard turned, the only precursor to the interruption had been almost inaudible footsteps. She found Tasha Kurin approaching. The asari's leathers were rumpled, as though they had been slept in.

The statement was too vague for an immediate retort, Shepard opted instead for silence as the asari captain paused on the other side of the workbench.

"Dozens of my sisters died that day I met you. They died trying to get you and your squad through to the Temple of Athame. They continued to die holding the line while you completed your mission. All because they believed that you would save them-"

Shepard immediately bristled at the accusation. "Look, Kurin, I didn't make any claims-"

"And you didn't. Instead I watched them load your unconscious body onto a shuttle," Kurin continued, ignoring the interruption. Her tone was hard, as was her expression. "Your ass well and truly handed to you. You left us to defend our world with the few troops we had left. Those last weeks of the War were hell. No food. No water. No hope. It felt like all we could do was huddle in the rubble of our home world, waiting to die."

As Kurin paused to draw a breath, Shepard didn't try to speak. She simply set down her shotgun and folded her arms across her chest, waiting for the commando to say her piece.

"We were on the brink of collapse at the end, by the time the pulse reached us. I thought I'd finally lost my mind when I saw Reapers falling from the sky. I've never been much for religion, but even I thanked Athame for saving us. Turns out it wasn't the Goddess we needed to thank at all. It was you." Kurin shook her head softly. Her lips parted in awe. "How does one person do that?"

"One person doesn't," Shepard replied without hesitation. "I was simply an instrument. Humanity, the krogan, the turians…asari, you all fought back against the Reapers. You saved yourselves by putting aside your differences and standing together."

"Perhaps, but you were the one that brought them all together. Curing the genophage to get Krogan troops on Palaven. That was down to you."

"No, it really wasn't. It was a Salarian named Mordin Solus – a friend. He gave his life to ensure that the cure could be delivered. I simply kicked a few arses."

Kurin seemed to relax slightly as she took up a leaning position against the bench. "Can I ask you something?" At Shepard's nod, the asari continued, "Does it feel as though all your work has been undone? Humanity leaving the Council, human colonies under attack. It must piss you off."

"Yeah, it does," Shepard replied. She hadn't appreciated the extent to which it did piss her off. Her fists clenched of their own accord. It was an anger than she could use, but at the same time there was a dangerous risk of it being completely unproductive. As she relaxed, Shepard realised that her new suit was pinching her neck. A small price to pay, one that she could ignore for the time being. "It seems as though we managed to lose all the good people during the War," she commented. "And only the idiots survived."

Kurin snorted slightly with fake mirth. "Myself included."

"You're not an idiot, Kurin. From what I've heard and seen, you're a hell of a soldier." Shepard paused for a moment and regarded the asari with a measured stare. Kurin couldn't hold it, and looked down at the bench awkwardly. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Yes…of course," Kurin responded warily.

"You need to put what happened with Ash behind you, regardless of how you might feel about her, or vice versa. We're all under a lot of pressure, but the stakes are getting higher all the time. I need you at your best when we hit the ground. If your attention is focussed on your personal life-"

"I assure you, Shepard, my focus is on the mission at hand," Kurin replied in a sharp tone. "Not on that…" Her voice trailed off, descending into an unintelligible growl that belied her words. She paused and took a deep breath. "I promise I won't let you down."

Shepard nodded. Having seen what Liara could do and having fought against asari in the past, she was grateful to have a dozen commandos fighting alongside her. She would have liked three times that number, but they'd have to make do. She sighed. "I just hope we're not too late."

* * *

 

**Mindoir, Attican Traverse**

Miranda felt as though she walked through a ghost town. Streets which had been teeming with life the day before now appeared deserted. It was so quiet that she could hear each tap of her boot on the tarmac. With the activity stripped from it, Miranda was reminded just how crude life on Mindoir really was. The Batarians and the Reapers had left few permanent structures standing in the wake of their respective destruction. Out of necessity, the colonists made do with the ubiquitous prefabs found on human colonies throughout the Galaxy.

Progress was slow on the fringes of civilisation but they were a resilient bunch, with an undeniable reluctance to expend hard work on anything frivolous. There were none of the ornamental gardens or worthless edifices that bureaucrats loved to spend credits on - just simple, practical utilities.

As mean as everything was, Miranda had come to believe that this was a way of life worth defending. She paused and studied the deserted street behind her. Whether it was worth giving her life for was another matter altogether.

Urgent footsteps interrupted her thoughts. "Ma'am?"

She looked over her shoulder, saw Parker approaching with his helmet clutched under his arm. As usual, he wore an almost insolent grin.

"How are we looking, Corporal?"

"Five-by, Lieutenant. We're set to draw the fuckers into a channel. They come down here, they'll wish they hadn't bothered to get out of bed."

"Let's hope," Miranda murmured to herself. She resumed walking at pace. Parker joined her. "The aim is to hold for as long as possible, at least until back-up arrives."

" _If_ back-up arrives," Parker pointed out unhelpfully.

Miranda responded with a disapproving stare. They were up against it, none of them needed to be reminded of the fact that they had no idea whether help was coming. She looked up. The sky was darkening, suiting the ominous mood perfectly. A shiver coursed down her spine. "Take your position, Parker. Pass the word around that every second soldier is to grab some sleep as best they can."

As Parker set off into the gloom at a brisk jog, Miranda continued her rounds. Her stomach rumbled and she was acutely aware that her fatigue was catching up with her, especially as she had to stifle a yawn.

"Ha! Saw that, Lawson!"

Jack lounged against a lamppost ahead, arms folded across her chest. Miranda noted that for once the younger woman was wearing an approximation of Alliance-issue armour – or at least the bits that she felt like wearing. As she walked towards Jack, Miranda realised with a sensation akin to horror that she felt a distinct sense of warmth. Whatever lay on the horizon, she was grateful to have the 'psychotic biotic' on her side. Even in a life as eventful as her own, being posted to Mindoir was possibly one of the best things that had happened to her. Besides meeting Ashley of course.

"Isn't armour supposed to cover your entire body?" Miranda retorted.

Jack shrugged in response. "Got shields haven't I? Something gets through that, then it's going to fuck me up regardless." Unfolding her arms, she flexed them in an exaggerated fashion. "More freedom of movement. So I can fuck them up first, right?"

"Right, Jack." Miranda humoured Jack. She personally preferred a full suit of armour.

"Besides, you can't talk. No one's forgotten what you used to run around in. All tits and ass."

Miranda rolled her eyes. Just when she was enjoying Jack's company, the conversation always went south. "That suit was a pinnacle of bioengineering, designed to - why do I even bother?"

She had to stifle another yawn, and failed miserably. It was usually the point at which she would have gladly injected herself with stims, but there were none to be had. Miranda had barely finished yawning when Jack seized her wrist and began to drag her bodily inside the nearest prefab. Even though she was hardly thrilled at the contact, Miranda was too tired to offer up anything other than a perfunctory protest. This died on her lips when she caught sight of something wondrous inside the small home – a sofa with cushions. Jack propelled her towards it and she sat down, armour and all.

"Just 30 mins, then promise you'll wake me," Miranda said as she stretched out. Despite the plates digging into her at various points, the manner in which the sofa cushioned her body felt like luxury.

"An hour," Jack countered.

"Fine." Miranda had already closed her eyes.

She felt a weight depress the sofa near her feet and shifted slightly so that Jack could sit down. Silence descended inside the prefab, the only sounds being her own quiet breathing as she effortlessly slipped into a half-slumber and Jack's boot tapping repeatedly on the floor. Her exhaustion was so complete that she couldn't bother to tell Jack to desist.

"What if I was wrong?" Jack suddenly asked.

Miranda merely grunted a sound that only barely resembled the obvious question.

"What if there's no one out there and I've dragged people out of their homes for nothing? I'll look pretty fucking stupid."

"Then I'll look fucking stupid alongside you," Miranda murmured. She cocked one eye open, Jack was resting her elbows on her knees. A hangdog expression on her face. "Stop worrying. You did good, Jack."

* * *

 

**SSV _Normandy_ SR-2**

_Stay calm, Steve. It's a just a small mess. Getting to Chasca is a matter of life and death. It's not even a mess really, just a little disorganisation._ Steve Cortez regarded the sheer chaos in _Normandy's_ docking bay and shook his head slowly. _It's a fucking big mess._

He forced himself to draw in several calming breaths, trying to stave off his compulsion for orderliness. Instead he focused on ensuring that everything was at least safe, then finding the gear that he needed. _If those idiots driving the loaders had just followed instructions…_

While he worked, for a few moments Cortez allowed his thoughts to shift to more pleasant territory. He'd secured a solid four days of leave while the _Normandy_ had been on Omega. It had been a chance to take a step away from work and get to know Greg Fleeting on a more personal level. Despite everything, the barest of smiles creased his face. Steve had thought that he'd never find happiness after Robert, but Greg was that and more. That was before he even got to the sex.

There was a smile and more than a hint of warmth to his cheeks as he continued checking off his manifest. It soon disappeared. So far at least half of their gear was missing or unaccounted for. He knew it was all somewhere in the chaos. Despite only having thirty minutes to get everything on board, Cortez had made damn sure that they were going into the op with everything they needed. He just had to find it.

An insistent tapping drew him out of his concentration. He lowered his manifest and followed it to the source. As he drew nearer, the tapping turned out to be more of an urgent thumping, accompanied by something that sounded like a muted cry for help. Cortez warily kept his distance, regretting the fact that he wasn't armed.

"EDI, can you tell me what's in crate…" He checked the manifest. "B56?"

_{Heavy weapons. The crate forms part of the cargo obtained directly from Aria T'Loak, therefore its exact contents are unknown}_ EDI replied. _{Scans reveal heat signatures within expected parameters, but the crate is shielded.}_

"Who the hell authorised the loading of a crate with unidentified contents!" Cortez snapped, double checking his manifest.

_{You did, Lieutenant, at 0727. Your exact words were 'just load the damn-}_

"Point taken," Cortez interrupted irritably. "If there really are heavy weapons in here, then why the hell is it speaking?"

Without waiting for EDI to continue being unhelpful, Cortez marched up to the crate and palmed the locking mechanism with an angry slap. As far as he was concerned, if there really was someone in there, then they'd better be ready to deal with his considerable wrath. _A huge mess and now a damn stowaway_. The crate slid open and something tumbled out.

"Fuck," Cortez whispered.

* * *

 

To describe the atmosphere inside the CIC simply as 'tense' would have been a colossal understatement. Sam dared to cast a surreptitious glance out of the corner of her eye. It didn't require any special powers of observation to see just how worried _Normandy's_ Captain was. Thankfully, at that moment in time, Ashley's attention was focussed wholly on the Galaxy Map. Sam could see that the Map wasn’t displaying their destination. Instead it depicted Mindoir.

Sam bit her lip, as she had done several times in the past few minutes. Shepard's parting request kept echoing in her head.

" _Promise you'll keep an eye on Ash for me. Keep her safe."_

It was a responsibility Sam didn't think she could fulfil. Firstly, she had no idea what her promise even entailed. Since departing Omega, Ashley hadn't left the CIC. Sam had thought about discreetly contacting Dr Chakwas, but she was sure that would merely lead to a clash between doctor and captain. There was no way in hell she wanted to be responsible for something like that. A small huff of determination escaped her lips. _Dammit_. She'd made a promise to Shepard and she was personally invested in the success of the mission.

"Ma'am?" Sam breathed a sigh of relief as Ashley looked over her shoulder. There was no anger on the Captain's face, just an undeniable fatigue. "We're still over twelve hours out, you should get some rest. A few hours at least."

"Did someone make you captain while I wasn't looking, Traynor?"

Sam swallowed quickly. "No, ma'am. I just-"

Ashley smiled. It was altogether cheerless, not reaching her eyes. It did lighten her face and remove some of the tension. "Trust me, I would if I thought I'd be able to fall asleep," Ashley said in a quiet voice, clearly intended for Sam's ears only. She turned her attention back to the map. The image of Mindoir revolved lazily, seemingly realistic enough to reach out and touch. "I close my eyes and I see Miranda fighting for her life. How am I supposed to sleep in the face of that?"

"I really don't know," Sam replied honestly. "Sometimes I don't know how we ever sleep."

Any further conversation was interrupted by the distinctive sound of the elevator door opening. That was routine, but it was quickly followed by another sound – a voice that was both completely foreign and utterly familiar.

"I can walk without your help, you dumb oaf!"

Time stood still for a moment as Sam struggled to process what she was hearing. Her body tensed in the moment before she turned, still not sure of exactly what she wanted to see. Rather than peak over her shoulder, Sam surprised herself by moving her whole body to face the disruption. Ashley moved in tandem, although the expression on the Captain's face did not mirror Sam's own. While Sam's jaw dropped in a combination of horror and surprise, Ash descended from the platform with an expression of glacial fury.

"Cortez, what the hell is this? _Who_ the hell is this?"

"I think it's a stowaway, ma'am." Cortez looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else.

"I'm not a bloody stowaway...okay, maybe you might see it like that, Captain...ma'am? I'm Mycea Kasos."

_Oh, Myke. What the hell have you done?_ Sam thought. Defying all rational thinking, Myke was standing in _Normandy's_ CIC, still wearing her leather pants and Alliance-issue hoodie, although this was accompanied by a broad grin directed at Sam.

A discreet but furious shake of Sam's head had the necessary effect. The grin disappeared, replaced by an eager, hopeful look that Sam was beginning to know well. It was also not the right expression for Myke's current predicament. Although Sam had a dozen questions of her own, she suspected that opening her mouth would be a bad idea.

"You met me once here, on the _Normandy_ …well, we sort of met. I saw you…you didn't notice me-"

"I don't care who you are," Ashley interrupted, sharing none of Myke's obvious amusement. "All I care about is how the hell you got on my ship and how soon we can get rid of you."

"Get rid of me?" Myke's humour slipped, replaced by anxiety. "Hey, I'm here to help."

Ashley advanced until she was standing toe to toe with the young asari. Looking on, Sam winced and resisted the immediate urge to step between her captain and her new lover. Knowing Ash as well as she did, Sam doubted that Myke was in danger of bodily harm. Or at least she hoped as much.

"You've entered a military vessel unlawfully," Ash said in an eerily calm voice. "Which makes you a criminal. I've got every right to have you shown straight to the nearest airlock."

"You wouldn't? Okay, maybe you would…shit, you're even scarier than Samara – and she's bloody terrifying," Myke said in a small voice. She swallowed visibly. "Look, Captain Williams, I admit I was wrong in sneaking on board your very, very nice ship – although your security was a bit shit – but I've got good intentions. You're short of hands, I've got hands and I'm not afraid of anything – hard work, danger. I once took a bullet for Shepard and I've got the scar to prove it!"

Ash narrowed her eyes, studying the asari carefully. "Maybe I do remember you from the observation lounge."

Myke brightened. "So, you're not going to space me?"

A weary sigh emerged from Ash's lips. "No, but only because Shepard would be pissed. Cortez, escort our unwanted guest somewhere secure and ensure that she stays there."

"Hey, I know I deserve it, but I didn't go to all this trouble to get locked up. I have medical training!" Myke protested, shrugging away from Cortez. "Surely your doc could do with the help?"

Sam drew in a deep breath and finally ventured a comment of her own, "Ma'am? If things go south, Dr Chakwas is going to need all the hands she can get, plus she can keep an eye on Mycea."

"Fine," Ash muttered indifferently. "You've wasted enough of my time already. Traynor, get her to the medbay…and make sure she doesn't cross my path for the rest of this trip."

"Aye, aye, ma'am," Sam replied smartly.

She didn't quite allow herself a sigh of relief, instead she turned to her recalcitrant lover and motioned towards the elevator with a curt jerk of her head. Myke followed obediently, watched closely by an exceedingly grumpy Steve Cortez. The usually imperturbable Lieutenant was clearly annoyed at his own precious time being wasted. Sam could sense his disapproval.

As soon as the elevator door closed, sealing all three of them off from the battleground that was the CIC, Sam and Myke turned at the same moment.

"Holy shit, I thought she was actually going to space me!" Myke exclaimed, looking for all the world as though she was having fun. Her gaze softened slightly as she stared at Sam. "Hey, thanks for helping me out."

"What the hell were you thinking?" Sam demanded. Despite the situation, she was finding it difficult to hold her anger with Myke standing right in front of her looking...well, the way she usually did. She drew in a breath, calmed slightly, and fixed what she hoped was a stern expression on her face. "This isn't a game, Myke, this is my job."

Sam hated seeing the obvious hurt on Myke's face, but she knew that she couldn't laugh the whole scenario off. It wasn't just her job that Myke was messing with, this was a matter of life and death. Knowing that Myke had been safe on Omega was one consolation Sam had carried with her. Now her asari lover had seen fit to throw herself in the thick of danger. Sam realised that it was the main reason for her anger.

"Don't you think I don't know that?" Myke countered. "I'm sick of being dismissed by everyone. I just wanted a chance to do something worthwhile."

"I take it you two know each other then?" Cortez asked with an arched eyebrow. He was leaning against the wall of the elevator, with his arms folded across his chest.

Sam sighed. "Myke, this is Lieutenant Steve Cortez. Cortez, this is Mycea Kasos...my, umm, girlfriend. I'd appreciate it if you could keep that little fact between us. Under the present circumstances, if Captain Williams were to find out, I may very well join our stowaway in the airlock."

Myke's grin appeared promptly as she proffered her hand towards Cortez. The Lieutenant was unimpressed, but he allowed Myke to pump his hand in an enthusiastic greeting. "Thanks for not shooting me on sight. That would have ended my trip pretty quickly." Myke shot a look towards Sam. "Your girlfriend?"

"Was I not supposed to call you that?" Sam asked worriedly.

"No, it's brilliant." Myke turned back to Cortez and beamed. "She's my girlfriend."

"And I'm absolutely delighted for you both," Cortez deadpanned. The elevator door opened on the mess hall. "Now would the two of you piss off before you make my day infinitely worse?"

The presence of a strange asari on board the _Normandy_ drew a fair few stares from passing crewmembers. Sam quickly ushered Myke away from prying eyes and into the relatively private confines of the medbay. Chakwas was busy stocktaking her supplies and initially spared them only a cursory glance. However, upon seeing Myke, the doctor stopped altogether and waited patiently for an explanation.

"Um, Dr Chakwas, could you use an extra pair of hands?" Sam asked, wondering what the hell she would do if the doctor said no to her request. "This is Mycea Kasos, she trained under Dr...errr."

"Prax," Myke added quickly. "Although he never trained as a doctor. He used to be an assassin so he's always had really steady hands. I think one day he just decided that he'd had enough of taking lives and wanted to try saving them instead. He's pretty good at it too."

As Myke looked around the medbay with unashamed fascination, Chakwas shared a look with Sam. There was a somewhat bemused expression on the doctor's face.

"This is a really nice medbay you've got here Dr Chakwas," Myke observed enthusiastically. "It's so clean."

Chakwas continued to stare for a good moment, as though trying to figure out exactly what kind of individual Sam had brought into her medbay. Her face soon relaxed into a warm smile. "Help is always appreciated. I take it you're with us for the duration of our trip?"

Myke saluted smartly. "Aye, aye, ma'am. Although do you mind if I have something to eat first? It felt like I was stuck in that crate for weeks." The asari patted her stomach with a sheepish expression.

"What crate?" Chakwas frowned.

Sam shook her head quickly. "Don't ask, Dr Chakwas. It's a really boring story."

Several minutes later, with Myke devouring an MRE at rapid speed, Sam knew she was well overdue to return to her post.

"Are you going to be alright down here?" she asked quietly.

"Am I ever? I'm on the _Normandy_ , heading into battle, eating this really great food-" Myke paused to slurp at her rehydrated eggs "-I've got myself a job where I can actually be useful and probably won't get shot at. Not to mention the fact that I barely got in trouble."

"You are most definitely in trouble!"

"But the good kind right?" Myke asked with hopeful, wide eyes.

Sam refused to allow herself to smile. She absolutely dreaded the thought of returning to face Ashley. The prospect of the blame for Myke's little escapade being laid squarely on her shoulders was still a distinct possibility. At the least she would be looking at a reprimand for her poor judgement in finding a girlfriend with a complete lack of disrespect for rules of any kind. At worst she could probably say goodbye to any promotion for the next decade. However, Myke was sitting in front of her patiently, looking for all the world like the most beautiful sight Sam could lay her eyes on. Not to mention Myke was wearing the pants that hugged her ass so perfectly. Her stomach flipped and she knew it was time to remove herself from Myke's presence before she found herself in even deeper water.

Sam turned to leave. "I haven't decided yet."

* * *

 

**Mindoir, Attican Traverse**

"Fuck!"

Miranda's entire body shivered as a powerful, firm tongue ran the length of her sex. She ground her hips forward, searching hungrily for as much contact as possible. After so long without such ministrations, she felt like a beggar at a feast. The manner in which her hips jerked was unashamedly wanton. Miranda didn't care whether she looked and sounded desperate, she just needed more of everything. More of Ashley's tongue grinding against her clit. More of Ashley's fingers delving deep into her cunt.

How long had she been waiting? It felt like years. Maybe it was.

The ragged sounds emerging from her throat didn't sound quite human. They were primal, animalistic.

"Fuck! Ash, please." Her voice sounded hoarse. "Don't stop...don't ever stop."

And Miranda meant it. She wanted to live in these kinds of moments for as long as possible. The moments where they were both utterly naked, clothed only in their combined sweat and the delightful aromas of past, present and future fucking. The only thing Miranda had to worry about was her next orgasm. With Ashley working intently between her legs, that was imminent.

Miranda grabbed a fistful of dark hair, wrapping the strands around her fingers. She knew she was tugging firmly enough to hurt, but she didn't care. There was no way in hell she was letting Ashley go again.

She was on the cusp when the glorious attention suddenly stopped and there was nothing, only the loss she felt when Ashley wrenched free of her grip. With an anguished moan, Miranda sat up. "Ash?"

Ashley was kneeling in front of her, wearing full armour save for her helmet and gloves. Her lips were glistening and her hair was unkempt around her face. Even as Miranda extended a hand to stop her, Ash reached for her rifle.

"I'm late, M," Ash said apologetically. "I'm sorry. I don't have time to give you what you need."

"Late for what?" Miranda asked in a whisper. Her abandoned sex throbbed painfully.

Ashley was already rising to her feet, heading towards the door.

"Hey, you're not walking out like that. Ashley, look at me dammit! What the hell is so important? What is more important than me?"

Her protests were ignored as Ashley opened the door. Outside didn't lead to another room, or even a street, the door opened onto a full-blown battlefield. Whereas previously all Miranda had heard were the sounds of her own breaths and voice, now she heard the ear-shattered thump of artillery and the rattle of small arms fire. Everything was punctuated by the shrill screams of the wounded and dying. Even though she was naked, Miranda rolled off the bed and darted after Ashley.

Suddenly her lover's frame was silhouetted against a blinding white light. Then came the wave of heat and flame.

The last thing that Miranda remembered before she woke up was Ashley looking over her shoulder. Gone were the handsome features she loved, replaced by raw flesh and white bone. The grizzly features that used to be Ashley grinned.

Miranda fell, landing hard on her shoulder. She sat up in a panic. Darkness consumed everything. It was total and overwhelming. Her breaths came in short, sharp gasps. Her heart was pounding so quickly that it threatened to explode. Where the hell was she?

A door opened and a light blinded her. Miranda had to shield her eyes against the glare.

"Lieutenant Lawson? Ma'am, are you alright?"

_Shit_. It was Finch. Miranda remembered. She'd fallen asleep on a sofa and had rolled off onto the floor as she woke. "Yeah...just-" A bad dream? She wasn't about to let that slip - especially not to one of the grunts. She dragged herself into a sitting position. "I'm fine, Finch. What's the time?"

"It's approaching 0200."

_Shit and fuck_. Jack had left her to sleep for over four hours. When Miranda found the woman, she was going to have some very unfriendly words.

"Can I get you something, ma'am?"

"You can get that fucking light out of my face," Miranda demanded coldly.

Almost immediately the light died. For a few moments all Miranda could see were flashes sparking in front of her vision. She closed her eyes and scrubbed at them, only exacerbating the situation.

"I'm sorry, it's just that you sounded like you were in pain. I thought maybe that it had started. That they were here," Finch said. He sounded like even more of a kid than usual.

_They_. Miranda didn't even know who 'they' were. The entire garrison was acting on Jack's hunch. After the dream she'd had, Miranda wanted Jack to be wrong. She needed Jack to be wrong. All she wanted was to somehow get the hell off Mindoir and find her way back to Ashley.

"No, nothing like that," Miranda replied, feeling bad for snapping at the kid.

_When did I get so old that I started calling other adults kids?_ Miranda mused. She was only approaching thirty-eight, and this was in a lifetime when she could reasonably expect to live over two centuries. Why did it still feel as though she was running out of time?

"Let's go find some coffee," she suggested.

It was rare that she indulged, and especially not with the floor scrapings that passed for coffee in the colony, but Miranda needed to take her mind off the dream. She couldn't think of a better way of doing that than listening to the inane chatter of half a dozen grunts.

"I think they've got a brew going over in the school," Finch replied, eager to help as always. "Mackintosh made it, so it tastes like piss but at least it's hot."

Once outside Miranda's eyesight had focussed sufficiently to allow her to see by the pale starlight filtering down from above. She cast her gaze skyward for a moment, even as a slightly brighter flash of light caught her attention. It was moving quickly, resembling a shooting star save for the fact that it was growing larger by the second.

The word was already on Miranda's lips when someone in the distance yelled it out, "Incoming!"

Instinctively, Miranda thrust out her arm and sent Finch flying into the lee of the prefab from which she had just emerged. At that precise moment, several high explosive rounds struck the street perilously close to her position. Miranda was lifted off her feet and thrown several metres in the opposite direction. Even as she flew through the air, the sensation of heat placed her back in her dream, running after Ashley. Her shoulders struck the ground first, then the back of her head hit with a sickening crunch. Black spots encroached on her vision, swarming inwards. A high-pitched buzzing filled her ears. Pain arced down her back.

_Get up_.

The buzzing gradually cleared. Other sounds took its place. Miranda lurched into a sitting position. Her head swam and her vision was filled with light.

_You need to get up_.

Stars now filled the sky overhead. Miranda knew that their usually benevolent light had been corrupted, but somehow she still found the picture beautiful. It was a ridiculous notion. A shape moved towards her, barely a shadowy outline amid the darkness and clouds of smoke. Miranda reached for the SMG at her side but before the servos could kick into gear recognition dawned.

"Get the hell up, M." It was unmistakably Ash's voice. As impossible as that was.

For a moment her heart leapt. "Ash?"

The smoke cleared. There was no one standing there.

Miranda swallowed, angry at herself for being so foolish. Her throat was parched and all she could taste was an acidic like bile rising from the back of her throat. However, it was the impetus she needed to drag herself back to her feet. The pounding in her head increased tenfold, accompanied by nausea as she attempted to walk forward. Miranda lurched suddenly, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy.

More lights darted in front of her face. It wasn't until one seared across her brow that she realised someone was shooting at her. She ducked down into a barely controlled roll, cursing herself for behaving like a hapless FNG. Anger surged through her veins, but she forced herself to remain calm and take stock of the situation. In the darkness it was almost impossible to gauge what kind of force the garrison was up against. All she could discern was that whoever it was possessed more than sufficient firepower.

Somewhere up ahead Miranda heard the tell-tale thump of a biotic explosion.

Jack.

With a mental note to never tell the other biotic that she had just spent the start of the battle scrabbling around in the dirt, Miranda started forward at speed. She caught flashes of movement, but it was difficult to distinguish between friend and foe amidst the darkness and cloying smoke. The attacking force were well organised and well-armed. Although the garrison had established a disciplined field of fire, they were up against seasoned veterans.

With her head sufficiently cleared, Miranda was beginning to feel more like herself. She wrapped her palm around the Tempest SMG at her side and it whirred into life. With her free hand, she summoned the delicious thrum of dark energy. It writhed and danced at her fingertips, crying out to be unleashed.

Finding Jack was effortless. All Miranda needed to do was head for the epicentre of chaos. It was a riot of noise and flying bodies. The carnage was almost beautiful. She narrowly avoided becoming one of Jack's victims before the other biotic recognised her, nodded, and continued with her work with barely a pause.

Miranda had forgotten what it was like to fight alongside Jack. Her fellow biotic was a maelstrom of carnage and unpredictability. Not to mention her irritating preference for operating alone despite being alongside another biotic. Jack favoured raw power attacks. Her signature move was ripping up the earth beneath an enemy's feet with a massive shockwave. Miranda tried, but could not establish any sort of rhythm with Jack – no priming each other's targets for detonation – they were completely out of sync. She had to settle for picking off the stragglers that escaped Jack's shockwaves, throwing them into panic with warp or overloading their shields. It wasn't as effective as they could have been together, but it worked after a fashion.

The Tempest submachine gun erupted as she jammed her finger on the trigger. It was pitifully ineffective compared to the N7 Hurricane, but the clip was primed with incendiaries. The plasma ate away at unshielded armour and primed her targets. Miranda cast overload on a writhing, screaming target. The currents detonated the plasma and she looked away as the body exploded into ragged chunks of flesh. It was a little trick she'd picked up from Garrus during her days as the XO of the _Normandy_ – far messier than she preferred, but extremely effective.

Jack laughed appreciatively. "Nice!"

The pair moved closer together. They were exposed, but predictably enough neither felt threatened by the danger surrounding them.

"You were right!" Miranda yelled.

"Fucking hate being right," Jack retorted angrily.

"Who the hell are they?"

"Fucked if I know. I'm just killing whoever shoots at me."

Miranda narrowed her eyes. A blue glare lit up an oncoming body and there was a corresponding guttural scream. For a moment Miranda caught sight of a body wearing dark, apparently unmarked armour. The glimpse was gone when Jack sent the flailing body flying into the distance.

_We need to restore some sort of order_ , Miranda thought. She could hear the rest of the garrison, their shouts and the coordinated bursts from Alliance-issue assault rifles, but it sounded as though they were being pushed back too quickly.

"Jack!" Miranda managed to get the other woman's attention. "We need to move!" She brought up her omni and accessed the garrison wide frequency. "Alpha and Bravo, rendezvous at my coordinates. Charlie and Delta, start making your way towards the Russell homestead, stick to cover."

"Ma'am! We've got a situation."

Miranda didn't recognise the distant sounding voice of one of her marines over the comm. "Speak!"

"...a dozen civilians...surrounded." The connection was almost indecipherable. "...silos..."

"Shit," Miranda whispered under her breath, even as she exchanged one exhausted heat sink for another.

A quick glance around her confirmed that Alpha and Bravo were gradually filtering into position. She felt a definite flare of pride as the marines took up orderly firing positions, returning a concentrated barrage down the street.

"Jack, we're moving out. We're needed elsewhere."

"Hey, who the fuck is the Captain here?" Jack demanded.

Miranda silenced Jack with an impeccably frosty glare. Trusting that Jack would have her back, Miranda began backtracking. Amid the flashes of light, she picked out Parker. She rapped on his helmet to get his attention.

"Parker, you've got Alpha and Bravo!" she yelled. "Hold them here for as long as you can, then start making an orderly retreat to link up with Charlie and Delta. Don't be a hero!"

"Five-by, ma'am!" Parker responded, punctuating his words with a burst from his Avenger.

Suppressing the guilt she felt at leaving half of her troops, Miranda took off at a run into the darkness. She managed to navigate through a combination of actual knowledge and dumb luck. Her boots rapped out on pavement, then were swallowed by the damp earth and lush grass as she moved across fields. She heard Jack loping along effortlessly at her side even though she could barely see the other woman.

"I forgot how much fun this was," Jack commented. She was barely even out of breath. "Nice moves back there, Cheerleader. Did you see the way those fuckers popped like firecrackers?"

Miranda wasn't amused. She hated being at a disadvantage. Their lack of knowledge about the whole situation both irritated and terrified her. For all she knew, they were fighting a doomed action against the vanguard of a much larger force.

She had no idea why the hell anyone would bother with Mindoir. There were no particularly valuable resources. All they had were cows. _And people_ , Miranda suddenly thought. _People to sell to slavers_. She frowned as she ran. _Mercs? On this scale?_

Without warning, an impact knocked her from her feet. Miranda hit the damp grass hard, but she knew better than to lash out in response. Jack had her pinned, hand clamped over her mouth. Her breath came damp and fast against Jack's palm - not out of a sense of panic, more out of frustration that she had missed the danger through her own haste. With a gentle motion of her head, Jack pointed out movement in the distance. Miranda twisted her head, relaxing slightly when Jack shifted her weight and removed her hand. With the movement came sound. Harsh voices at first, then muffled sounds of pain and distress. Her body tensed again as she deciphered what was happening. The civilians that she'd been trying to reach had already been found.

While Miranda's reaction was tempered by a measure of caution, Jack possessed no such restraint. Before she could stop her, Jack was rising stealthily to her feet, like some sort of night time predator. Miranda made a useless attempt to grab at Jack's ankle, but the other woman was already moving forward with intent. She had no choice but to follow with a similar course of action, although sensibly choosing to move in the opposite direction.

Everything about her movements felt off – footsteps too heavy, breathing in sharp pants, bile continuing to rise at the back of her throat. It wasn't merely a case of readjusting to combat, Miranda knew that her initial concussion had been more severe than she had originally realised. She was operating at less than optimum. Unfortunately, it was probably going to get her killed.

None of that mattered when she drew close enough to hear the terrified voices of the civilians. There were less than a dozen, mostly young men with a few women. As she crouched in the lee of a rocky outcrop, Miranda made out only five featureless aggressors. Easy pickings if she and Jack hadn't had the hostages to contend with. The plan that she was formulating in her head was swiftly undone as two of the civilians tried to make a sudden dash for freedom, overpowering one of their captors, before sprinting for the safety of the shadows. Miranda winced as shots rang out, followed by sharp cries of pain. Both men were cut down like ragdolls, flopping motionless to the ground as the remaining captives either screamed with terror or huddled in silence.

"For fuck's sake!" A harsh voice rang out. "I thought I said no shooting the merch!"

The figure who had spoken removed his helmet, revealing him to be unmistakably human. He ran his hand through his short hair in annoyance.

"Yeah, and I don't take orders from you or your kind, pinhead!" another retorted, he had a firm grip on the arm of a young woman. "We were promised our share of the spoils and so far you've done nothing but dole out orders. My boys and I are sick of it. We're gonna help ourselves."

His last action was pushing the young woman to the ground. He barely had time to turn at a disturbance behind him. The next moment his flailing figure was swept into the air. Without waiting for Jack to follow up, Miranda cast reave. The resulting biotic boom pushed most of the civilians to the ground, leaving their remaining captors standing. Miranda followed up by targeting the helmetless human. She cast overload, hearing the satisfying manner in which his shields fizzled and died, and followed up with a quick burst from her SMG. The rounds struck him squarely in the chest, although it was her intention to disable rather than kill. In the meantime, Jack had made extremely short and very messy work of the remaining three. Two were dead, and the third was screaming in a high-pitched whine from behind his helmet. The colonists had sensibly thrown themselves to the ground.

Miranda emerged from the shadows. Her main concern was getting to the man she'd spared. She found him dazed and smelling strongly of burning hair, but otherwise unharmed. Before he could collect his wits to know what the hell had happened, Miranda seized his chest plate and dragged him into a sitting position. Somewhere nearby, she heard a single shot. The screaming stopped abruptly.

"Who the fuck are you?" she demanded, not bothering to conceal her fury. "Why the fuck are you here?"

Beneath the singed hair, the man could have passed for a marine. He was clean-shaven and healthy. His eyes were piecing in the darkness. "Fuck you, Alliance bitch. Ain't telling you nothin'."

"Fine," Miranda muttered, throwing the uncooperative man back to the ground. She looked up. "Jack, he wants to talk to you."

Miranda stood, feeling slightly dizzy as she did so. She turned her attention to the surviving colonists, having to suppress a stab of anger at their stupidity in not following the plan. Looking at their terrified faces, this reaction passed quickly.

"I can't spare any men to get you to safety. You'll need to find your own way to join up with the rest," she said in a hoarse voice. Miranda ignored whatever Jack was doing behind her. What she was hearing was more than enough to make her feel nauseous. "If you move quickly you should be able to make it away from the fighting by sunrise."

She watched as they picked themselves up quickly, all no doubt eager to get away from the muffled sounds of pain. There was a very good chance that they wouldn't make it, but Miranda didn't have time to babysit the colonists. Her unit was no doubt being overrun while its commanding officers lingered. Parker, Rousmaniere, and Finch with his handkerchiefs and abundant supply of underwear. They were all just kids.

"Fuck."

At the curse, Miranda turned her attention back to Jack. She could see little other than Jack rising to her feet. As she drew nearer, Miranda uttered a curse of her own. Their previously recalcitrant prisoner had gone from being quite alive, to very dead all in the space of a few minutes.

Jack wiped her bloody hands on her trousers and looked at Miranda with a defiant expression. "Fucker didn't know anything, or if he did he wasn't telling."

"Obviously."

Without the energy to pick a fight, Miranda crossed to another body - a neat hole in the centre of its helmet. She hunkered down and fumbled for the release on the helmet. She tossed it aside and her suspicions were confirmed. It was a Batarian - all four of his eyes staring wide in death.

"The fuck?" Jack hissed over her shoulder.

They did the rounds of the remaining bodies - one human, and two Batarians. On one hand Miranda could applaud the group for a sense of racial diversity. However, on the other she had to ask herself what the hell they were doing working together. The Batarian Hegemony had been torn apart before the War, courtesy of Shepard. Their leadership decimated. They had never been the friendliest or most cooperative of races, so a part of her wasn't surprised that the survivors would turn to doing whatever they had to in order to survive. Picking off weakened human colonies was apparently high on their list of priorities.

But the humans?

"Well armed," Jack mentioned, kicking at one of the bodies with her boot. "Not your average Terminus slavers. What the hell is going on here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Miranda relieved one of the dead slavers of his spare heat sinks. "We need to link back up with the rest of the unit." She studied Jack for a moment. It was hard to see any expression on the other woman's pale face. The only indication of fatigue were dark circles under Jack's eyes. "You holding up?"

Jack snorted. "I'm peachy. I should be asking that question of you, Cheerleader. You look like shit."

Miranda drew in a breath. She felt like shit. "I'm fine, Jack. Let's get moving before we miss the rest of the party."

* * *

 

**_AHC Pserimos_ ** **, Mindoir Approach**

"What have we got?"

Shepard approached the _Pserimos'_ war table with a feeling akin to apprehension. She could already see the tension in the faces of those assembled. Well, everyone except Samara, the justicar wore her trademark non-expression. And Javik was scowling, which also rarely changed. She slipped into the group next to Liara, reaching out to touch her bondmate's hand briefly before turning her attention to the table.

"You'd better hope that new armour of yours is up to the task," Kurin commented wryly. "To say we're outnumbered is an understatement. There are three frigates orbiting Mindoir. They've not picked us up, but that's about the only good news I can offer."

"And do we have any idea who they are?" Shepard asked, directing the question mainly at Liara.

Her bondmate was hardly convincing with the worried frown marring her brow. "Two of the frigates are of an asari design ubiquitous throughout Council space - favoured by mercenaries, privateers and security forces. Both lack any identifying features and their serials have been scrubbed. The third vessel is a Turian frigate that was listed as having been destroyed during the War. So, in short...no, I can't tell you." The admission of defeat sounded painful for Liara to make. For someone who prided themselves on information, the decided lack of it had to be frustrating in the extreme. "But the evidence hints at mercenaries or slavers."

"Fighting is concentrated around this settlement here-" Kurin marked a spot on the three-dimensional map at the heart of the table "-and it looks as though it's been ongoing and brutal, but the damage is localised, contained...for now at least."

Shepard nodded. "What do you suggest as our course of action, Captain?"

"Me?"

"This is your op, I'm just along for the ride."

Kurin swallowed, visibly rattled before composing herself. However, when she did, she spoke with a calm, clear voice. "We're going to have the element of surprise, so I suggest we use it. Hit them as hard as possible at a number of strategic points - here...here...and here, make them think that we have the numerical advantage. I think we've got the firepower to do it. If we can rattle them sufficiently, we have a good chance of convincing them to pull out."

"It'll be our only chance," Shepard commented quietly. "We're putting all our eggs in one basket."

Kurin frowned. She looked immediately to Liara.

"Human saying," Liara explained. "What Shepard is trying to say is that we cannot afford to fail."

Shepard offered up a minute nod to show her support without making it seem as though Kurin needed her approval in order to progress.

"It's 1430 groundside," Kurin addressed the wider crew. Her commandos gathered in close. "We'll be touching down in less than 45 minutes so I suggest you ready your gear." She paused for a moment, studying their faces with a calm expression. "I know many would say that this isn't our fight, that we're putting our lives at risk for a race that have turned their backs on the Council. But we stood side by side during the War, there's no reason that shouldn't continue now."

The resulting murmur was completely one of agreement.

As the strike force broke up to attend to their final preparations, Shepard managed to steal a quiet minute with Liara. Their armour got in the way of intimacy, but Shepard allowed herself the barest of kisses. She needed it. Just when she had been allowing herself to believe that their lives had settled into a peaceful routine, they were on the verge of throwing themselves into battle yet again. Shepard supposed that it was the wakeup call she had needed to shrug off her complacency.

"Kurin is good," Liara said, nuzzling into Shepard's neck for a moment. "Reminds me of someone I know all too well."

"Mhmm, that remains to be seen. I think I might have lost my nerve, Li," Shepard admitted.

Liara drew back with a concerned expression on her face. "What makes you think that?"

"I think…" Shepard swallowed. "I think I'm scared."

"That is a good thing," Liara replied without hesitation.

Shepard stared in disbelief. "I just told you that I was scared. How is that a good thing?"

Liara leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. "Because it means that you will be careful," she said quietly. "And that is a concept that I approve of immensely."

Although the thoughts were there, Shepard did not give voice to her fears. Instead she fixed a determined smile on her face to which Liara responded by kissing it gently. As Shepard watched Liara walk away she knew that she had too much to live for to die on Mindoir, or anywhere else in the Galaxy for that matter. Deep down, a part of her also knew that she could simply chose to remain apart from the fighting. A figurehead for the cause rather than the actual catalyst. Shepard suspected that few would feel any sort of resentment. However, that had never been her style and she wasn't about to start now. She preferred to be on the front lines, fighting alongside those who would die for her.

She suppressed a snort at her wayward thoughts. _Don't buy into all of that shit. These commandos aren't lining up to die for you_ , Shepard had to remind herself. Her gaze travelled over the asari in the _Pserimos'_ CIC. A few met her eyes but they looked away quickly. The only individual who held it for any length of time, was Kurin. The asari Captain gave her a firm nod of readiness. Shepard swallowed and returned it, but she refused to read anything further into the look, or the deference of other asari. She was simply a soldier who'd done the right things in the right places. Nothing more.

_Then what exactly would they be dying for?_

* * *

 

**Mindoir, Attican Traverse**

Ash hated being told that she was gorgeous. Miranda knew it, but she didn't care and she certainly wasn't inclined to stop saying it simply because she was told to. She smirked at that thought. _Not on my watch, marine_.

When she finally got out of this hell, Miranda made a mental note to remind Ash how gorgeous she was at least once a day. At that moment however, what she really wanted to do was sleep. Sleep, blissful, peaceful sleep. Miranda didn't usually allow herself more than four hours a night, but she felt as though she could easily stretch that to five...or even six. For once in her life, she was going to be lazy and enjoy it.

_"M, you fall asleep and I'm going to kick your ass."_

Miranda heard Ashley's voice as clearly as if her lover were sitting next to her. "That's not much of a threat." Her lips mouthed out the response. "You can kick my arse any day."

"Lieutenant?"

At the words, Miranda's eyes snapped open. She found herself being stared at by a pale young man, the lower half of his face caked with blood and dirt. Her confused stare lasted a split second longer than it ought to before she recognised Parker. The Corporal had taken off his helmet, the grime started where his visor had ended. Another few seconds later and the fog had clearly sufficiently for her to sit up straight and at least resemble someone who knew what they were doing.

"We're completely out of medigel, we've scavenged as many clips as we can but we're all down to a few each. Our heavies are almost out of ammo for the thump guns," Parker explained in a weary voice. "And...Finch died a couple of minutes ago. There was nothing more we could do for him."

_Fuck_. Miranda swallowed. Her throat was bone dry. She fumbled for her hydration tube, only to remember that she'd finished off the last of her water several hours earlier. Wordlessly Parker extended his arm, he was holding a canteen which she accepted gratefully. The water was tepid and tasted of metal, but it was still wet enough to satisfy her thirst.

"No one's coming for us are they, ma'am?" Parker suddenly said in a miserable voice. "Or they'll be too fucking late."

Miranda regarded him calmly as she passed the canteen back. She'd never much liked the guy, but Parker had proven himself during the relentless fighting. Like most of the grunts on Mindoir he'd never seen actual combat before today, but he'd handled himself like a vet. However, Finch's death appeared to be the final straw. Miranda hated the fact that the kid was dead, but she wasn't ready to give up. She stared at the Corporal, trying to remember actually reading the name on his file.

"Parker...Mark, I don't know about you but I have no intention of dying here." Miranda felt half-dead already, but that wasn't the point. "I'm getting the hell off this rock so I can spend the next month, or however long I want, reminding myself that I'm still alive." She smiled tiredly. "Mostly that's going to involve fucking my girlfriend."

Parker stared in disbelief, then a slow smile spread across his face. "That sounds like a good plan, ma'am. I think...I'm going to go home and tell my little sister not to be in such a hurry to grow up and join the service. War sucks."

"It most definitely does."

A sudden commotion drew Miranda's attention away from her conversation. She looked up just in time to see Jack throw herself over their makeshift barricade. The biotic was breathing heavily, sucking in deep, desperate gulps of air. Jack also looked like hell, but it was down to exhaustion as opposed to any actual wounds.

"We've lost the settlement," Jack puffed. "We need to get the hell out now, or we'll be surrounded."

"Right," Miranda replied, somehow feeling energised by Jack's presence. She turned her attention to Parker. "Corporal, you and Rousmaniere are in charge of the wounded - use whatever you have to in order to get them moving. Jack and I are going to provide a rear-guard for as long as we can. You make it to the treeline and disperse into small groups, always moving away from the civilians. We've got to keep them tied up as long as possible."

"Aye-aye, ma'am."

As the marines quickly stirred into action, Miranda turned her attention back to Jack. Instead of water, the other biotic had somehow found herself a can of beer and was gulping it down without pause. With the can drained, Jack tossed it aside and threw Miranda an expression of disgust.

"Don't judge me, Cheerleader," Jack snapped. "You're the one that just volunteered me for a suicidal last stand."

"Leave with the others then," Miranda replied as she dragged herself into a standing position. Her vision blurred for a moment, then mercifully cleared. "In fact, it's probably better if you do. They'll need you."

Jack snorted disparagingly. "And let you steal all the glory? Not a fucking chance."

Miranda holstered a Carnifex at her side and retrieved the same trusty Tempest she'd carried throughout the day. "You're a good person, Jack."

"Piss off, Lawson." Even as the words emerged, there was a small grin on Jack's face.

They flared blue in tandem. Jack burned a vibrant blue. The smaller woman seemed to possess infinite reserves. Miranda found it a struggle to maintain control over the dark energy coursing through her veins, especially when all she wanted to do was slump back to the ground and go to sleep. However, she took her cue from Jack, slamming one of her last thermal clips into her SMG.

Miranda had no idea how many of the attacking force had died during the course of the day, but as she and Jack broke cover it felt as though an entire army was concentrating fire on their position.

Still, it was a hell of a way to go. Two against an army.

A warp field left her fingers, arcing towards the target. Miranda felt a corresponding thrill at the way in which the power ate into the armour of the faceless threat in front of her. After following up with reave, the warp detonated with a satisfying thump. The explosion radiated outwards at the moment that Jack tore up the ground with one of her trademark shockwaves, sending a cluster of slavers flying. Miranda refrained from using her tech powers. Overloading shields would have been less of a drain, but she knew that if she lost her biotics now she wouldn't have the energy to summon them again. She needed to keep her field active, drawing some strength from it, but mostly using it to cause as much pain and destruction as possible.

A hail of gunfire drove her to find cover against an overturned vehicle. She listened to the pat-pat of rounds striking metal before looking across the street to find Jack – also in cover. With an urgent wave of her arm, she motioned for Jack to leave. Predictably, the other biotic responded with a defiant middle finger. Miranda didn't have the energy to spare to make a response. Instead she gritted her teeth and rolled out of cover. Immediately she drew fire. One round slammed into her corona and fizzled out, the next two however drove her to her knees. With a sharp cry of rage, Miranda pressed forward, tucking into another roll and coming up firing to send her opponents diving for cover.

If Jack had any sense, she would use the distraction to get clear.

Even though she was in the midst of a frenetic whirlwind of activity, Miranda felt oddly detached from everything. Usually in combat her enhanced senses were acutely aware of the sources of danger. Her mind would be racing, processing the details with inhuman speed. In other words, she had an edge. Now she felt sluggish and apathetic. She wanted to survive, there was no doubt about that, but it was too difficult to summon the energy to care.

Somewhere in the cacophony of sounds, Miranda was dimly aware of the whine of an incoming projectile. Before she could react, the rubble that formed her scant cover suddenly disintegrated. The impact sent her sprawling backwards, falling debris raining down all around her. Her barriers faltered but held, barely. With dust cloying her mouth and airways, Miranda struggled backwards on all fours.

_You're not going to die on your fucking arse! You need to get up!_

With a grunt of exertion, Miranda regained her feet. The dust cleared slightly, framing the image of Jack sprinting full tilt towards her. Apparently, Jack had ideas other than letting her face her death with dignity. Jack's biotic corona enveloped them both at the moment that their position was struck by a further hail of rockets. Her vision erupted in flame and fury.

"Get moving, Lawson," Jack yelled, obviously having decided that she was once again in charge.

Miranda was in no mood to follow orders. "Like hell." She flared too. Summoning her last reserves of strength to combine her corona with Jack's. "We're getting out of here together."

Using the last of the dust as cover, Miranda and Jack sprinted for the edge of the settlement. The treeline beyond was their best chance to find cover and evade their pursuers. However, as Miranda ran, it seemed as though the distance kept growing with each step. Even more dispiriting was the fact that her legs felt leaden and clumsy. The ultimate indignity was stumbling and falling behind Jack. Miranda pushed herself even harder.

For a moment it looked as though they might make it. Something kept Miranda's legs pumping even as her heart threatened to explode. Their barriers weakened with every strike. Some rounds were now breaking through, tearing up the ground around their feet. They were so close.

Miranda was already anticipating turning this into a great story. She and Jack saving each other's lives. No one would believe it without vid footage. The thought was almost causing her to laugh when it felt as though something kicked her right leg out from beneath her. She spun like a ballerina for a moment before crashing to the ground. Above her, Jack let out a roar of frustration.

She assessed everything in one second of cold logic. It had been a piece of debris penetrating her armour. It hurt like hell and would bruise like a mother, but she could still stand. That was inconsequential. They'd lost valuable momentum. Their barrier was gone. Miranda's processing was cut short, not by their pursuers, but by Jack. She found herself swept up in a storm of biotic energy, enough power to throw her backwards. Miranda hit the ground hard. The air was driven from her lungs, but she could still see Jack.

From that point everything played out in slow motion. In an incomprehensible display of strength, Jack picked up the field of debris surrounding her. Miranda only needed to turn and scramble the last metres to safety, but she was transfixed. She heard Jack's primal cry in her gut. The biotic powerhouse then sent the debris careening towards their pursuers. The next moment Jack's position was enveloped in chaos. Framed against the brilliant light, Miranda watched the small shape of Jack's body ragdolling through the air. Ignoring everything else, Miranda lurched to her feet. She ran towards Jack, her stiff leg dragging. She found Jack on her back, eyes closed. Miranda seized the limp form and dragged it into the shelter of a ruined wall. It would be a matter of seconds until they were overrun. Miranda knew that she had thrown away her chance to escape, but she couldn't bring herself to leave Jack.

"Look at me, you bitch!" Miranda hissed desperately. There was no way she was letting Jack die for her.

Jack was still breathing. Still alert. "What'd…fuck you do that for?" the smaller woman wheezed.

"We're doing this together," Miranda replied. She meant it.

"Fuck!" Jack's stoic expression suddenly shifted into one of intense pain. "This shit fucking hurts."

Somewhere behind her Miranda could hear urgent shouts. Her eyes slid closed as she weighed their scant options. Practicalities dictated that she put a bullet through Jack's head and then her own. It had to be preferable to the alternative. However, Miranda knew she'd never be able to pull the trigger. Not while there was an iota of a chance that she could survive what was to come.

Somewhere, outside of her thoughts and the limp weight of Jack's body, Miranda was dimly aware that something was wrong. Someone else was still shooting back. Miranda was too spent to join them. She kept her hand on Jack, needing to feel the rise and fall of the other woman's chest. Jack's breathing was erratic, eyelids fluttering as though it was a struggle to simply keep them open.

"Don't give up on me, Jack," Miranda urged desperately.

"Wouldn't…give you the satisfaction."

It wasn't fair. Jack had been by far the stronger of the two throughout the day. Miranda had to suppress her anger. The stupid bitch had a chance to get clear, yet stubbornly had remained at her side, dragging her increasingly useless self.

The urgency of their situation was critical, but she was so bloody tired.

"I just need a moment," Miranda whispered, only half listening to the sounds coming from somewhere in the distance. She was more intent on what was happening within her immediate surrounds. Within her own body, within Jack's – willing whatever was left of her strength, to be passed to Jack. "Then, one way or another, we're leaving this party."

There was no characteristically impudent retort from Jack, just the far more worrying sound of silence. Struggling against the rising strains of irrational panic, Miranda shifted out from beneath Jack's body and gently laid the other woman back on the ground. Jack's eyes were closed, her face a slack mask drained of all lifelike colour.

"Fuck you, Jack," Miranda hissed angrily, starting to tear at the fabric of Jack's clothing in an effort to assess her injuries. "You are not doing this to me."

With Jack's thin torso exposed as a ragged mess of flesh and blood, Miranda let out a cry of frustration. She had nothing to stem the flow of blood or to treat the wounds. Her sense of awareness had faltered to the point that she didn't see the rifle butt being aimed at her head until it was too late. She turned at the same moment that it violently connected, seeing only a dark blur. Her head snapped back and her body followed.

The fog that descended was almost absolute. Her head felt as though it was splitting apart, but something compelled her back to semi-consciousness. That something was her concern for Jack. She was already trying to push herself up when she felt rough hands on her body, keeping her down. Fingers raked through her hair, seizing a fistful and wrenching it painfully. Miranda bit her lip, refusing to allow anyone the satisfaction of hearing her cry out in pain.

"C'mon, just kill her and be done with it!" a harsh female voice hissed. "She's fucking Alliance, no use to us."

"Are you kidding?" a man's voice, heavy with lust. "Look at this bitch!"

"Fuck. Just hurry up then." The woman sounded jumpy. "It sounds like something's going down. There's no way I'm going to get caught out here with my ass hanging out."

"More for me," he announced gleefully.

Miranda focused on the guy as he tugged and sliced at her armour. Her jaw tightened. He grinned in response to her stare, saying some crap that she didn't hear over the roar of blood between her ears. A cold fury provided strength enough to reach for the service blade strapped to her thigh. The tips of her fingers found the hilt and she grasped it as firmly as she could. With a primal grunt of rage, Miranda brought it up and drove it towards an unprotected ear. There was enough force behind the movement to pierce flesh. Almost instantly the weight was gone and the knife was ripped from her grasp. The resulting scream conveyed pure agony. Miranda wasn't quite done. She desperately tried to summon dark energy, but it lay tantalisingly out of reach of her exhausted body. She rolled over and spied her Carnifex lying in the grass a few feet away.

"Fuck! You cunt!" her victim gasped in between pained whimpers. "Shoot her!"

As the wounded man's comrade brought a shotgun up to hip level, Miranda scrambled for the pistol. At the back of her mind she knew that she would pull the trigger second. That was irrelevant. It was the principle.

There was a sudden whump of sound that Miranda recognised all too well. Instead of pulling the trigger, the woman cried out as dancing blue flares licked hungrily at her body, shredding her armour. It was followed by a flash of movement and a biotic explosion as a vanguard's charge connected with the target. The newcomer was an asari who followed up with a shotgun burst of her own at close range. A limp body flew backwards and flopped to the ground with a dull thump. The first man, still clutching at his ear, didn't have time to respond before his body was riddled with rapid bursts from an SMG as a second asari sprinted forward.

All Miranda could do was stared in disbelief at the two asari as she sat, the Carnifex lying forgotten in her hand.

"Keep pressing forward with the others, Cyrene, I've got this," the second asari said in a gruff voice as she lowered her weapon. Although she paused near Miranda, her eyes scanned their surrounds for further danger. "Are you alright?"

Miranda managed a nod in response to the question, but when she tried to speak all that emerged was a pathetic wheeze. She was utterly spent. Too spent event to feel a sense of relief. _Jack.…_ The Carnifex slid from her palm and she tried to crawl towards Jack's body.

Firm hands tried to get her to remain still. "Hey, you need to rest."

Miranda shook her head stubbornly. "Help…Jack."

There was a brief pause as the asari looked towards the motionless form lying next to them.

"I think it's too late for your friend. I'm sorry." The voice was compassionate, but matter-of-fact. "You I can help."

"Fuck!" Miranda snapped, shrugging away from the gentle grip. "Help her!"

There was a flurry of movement in response, accompanied by muttered curses as the asari saw what Miranda had seen a few minutes earlier. However, unlike Miranda, the newcomer had medigel which she began to apply liberally. Miranda tried to stand, but fell forward and promptly vomited a foul-smelling liquid into the grass. The heaves sapped the last of her strength and she flopped down onto the grass, breathing heavily. Her head lolled to one side and she confirmed for herself the persistent rise and fall of Jack's chest. A ragged sigh of relief escaped her lips.

As she lay in the grass, for the first time Miranda could clearly make out their rescuer - a stunning asari commando with dusky cobalt blue skin and vivid pink stripes cascading down her crests. She had no idea why asari were on Mindoir, nor was she interested in finding out at that point in time.

"Thank you." The words sounded distinctly ungrateful, if only for the fact that Miranda was unable to inject any emotion into them.

The commando turned her head and studied Miranda for several moments. Unexpectedly, her blue eyes widened in what was obvious recognition. "Goddess…you...you're her." There was a brief pause. "Miranda Lawson."

Miranda responded with a weak nod. "Do I know you?"

"No, you don't." Responding with a rapid shake of her head, the asari turned her attention back to Jack. "Shit, she's bad." She opened a channel on her omni-tool and spoke with clear authority, "I need a medic at my coordinates five minutes ago!"

"You and everyone else!" was the blunt reply.

"Goddess-dammit, this is a priority. If someone isn't here in one minute, you'll be busted back to private. Everyone last one of you."

"You're in charge," Miranda observed, finally finding a measure of gratitude.

She tried to struggle a little closer to Jack, but gave up. It required an immense effort just to keep her head and shoulders off the ground. The fact that they were possibly safe had not even begun to sink in. In fact, it wouldn't be a reality until she could confirm that Jack was going to live. Her friend's survival was all that mattered. _No_ , Miranda thought with a sharp stab of pain. She's more _than a friend_.

"Sort of," the commando replied. "I'm Kurin, Captain of the asari frigate _Pserimos_ …but I would say that _she's_ the one who's really in charge."

Miranda followed the direction of Kurin's nod, but it took some time for her to make out anything about the approaching figure other than a set of black armour than seemed to swallow light. A battered Cerberus Harrier was slung over one shoulder and the individual walked with a distinct gait that Miranda knew she ought to recognise. An opaque visor obscured the face.

It wasn't until the person hunkered down at her side that Miranda realised who it was.

"Shepard." She exhaled gently. Finally, everything hit her. The realisation that someone had come for them. That it was Shepard. Miranda shook her head. "You shouldn't be here."

Shepard lifted her visor in response. Her face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. In addition, a deep, worried frown marred her brow. "I'll be the judge of that, Lawson. You look as though you've been through hell."

"I'm fine," Miranda replied stubbornly. "The idiot over there is in worse shape."

Even as Miranda spoke, another two asari approached at a run. Under Kurin's direction, they immediately began attending to Jack. Somewhat reassured, Miranda turned her attention back to Shepard. Her friend looked good, far better than the skeletal shell she'd last seen in China. Yet, in a way, Shepard didn't appear to be herself. There was a gravity about her expression that Miranda didn't have the energy to fathom. Her thoughts soon flitted to another consideration, one of a more personal nature. She bit her lip for a moment, not quite daring to ask the question. It emerged anyway.

The hope in her voice was almost sickening. "Is Ash with you?"

Shepard's expression shifted, giving any the answer before she spoke. "No, you've got me. I'm sorry. Ash made the decision to-"

"No…I trust Ash's reasoning," Miranda replied stoically. Her throat was burning. "It's fine."

She had never been that kind of person. The weepy, melodramatic kind who couldn't handle a situation with her own resources. Without warning, something snapped inside. The wildly compressed events of the past dozen hours suddenly hit all – all played out in stark relief. Hours of intensive, brutal combat, dozens of marines dead, Jack saving her life, the fact that some sick fucker had tried to assault her in the midst of it all. Miranda hadn't even let the last act sink into her comprehension. She felt filthy. An uncontrollable shiver coursed through her body and she felt nauseous all over again.

"Miranda?" Shepard's concerned voice sounded as though it was coming from underwater.

Although she tried to avert it out of pride, there was nothing Miranda could do to stop the flow of tears. Her exhaustion meant that it emerged as a pathetic, blubbering sound. When she felt her body be drawn into Shepard's firm embrace, her last restraints fell away and Miranda surrendered completely.

The sounds of fighting continued in the distance, but Shepard couldn't bring herself to abandon Miranda. In all the years she had known the ex-Cerberus operative, she'd never seen Miranda so utterly broken. Shepard gently brushed a clump of matted hair away from Miranda's forehead. The hair had stuck to a deep gash on Miranda's forehead that was crusted with dried blood.

"Kurin?" Shepard inclined her head towards the medics, who were working feverishly on Jack's small frame.

The response was a simply a pained shrug. _Maybe. Maybe not._ Still, Shepard knew Jack. The tiny biotic was far stronger than she looked.

_{Shepard?}_ Liara's urgent voice over the comm interrupted her thoughts. _{Are you alright?]_

"Yes, fine. I'm with Miranda and Jack. They're both pretty banged up, but-"

_{We have no time for reunions, Evan,}_ Liara interrupted tersely. _{The_ Pserimos _has picked up more vessels incoming - at least half a dozen. Now might be a good time for one of your plans.}_

Shepard looked up and caught Kurin's gaze. The commando was wide-eyed and hopeful. "You've got a plan for that?"

"No," Shepard admitted. "I really don't."

 


	43. An Altruistic Agenda

**Mindoir, Attican Traverse**

**Two hours earlier…**

The small shuttle skimmed the tree tops with such precision that Shepard could smell a pine-like scent in the crisp air. She stood by the open door, a strap wrapped around one hand, her helmet in the other. The slipstream buffeted her exposed face but she ignored her numb nose and cheeks, preferring to feel the chill.

They were close enough now that she could hear a familiar song over the shuttle's engines - the rattle of weapons fire in the distance. Another scent mingled with the pine – the arid, eye-watering tang of smoke. It became denser as they approached, offering a hint of the scale of the violence that had been inflicted on the settlement. The strap strained at its anchor as her grip tightened.

Anticipation bred an uncharacteristic impatience. Knowing that Liara would be watching her closely, Shepard made a conscious effort to relax. How many times had she stood in similar positions in her previous lives? Poised on the cusp of violence. Waiting to throw herself into the game of 'kill or be killed'. Doubtless too many times to count. For all the fear she still felt, for all the nerves, this was her world. As much as she hated to admit it, it was the most appropriate homecoming she could have.

Shepard felt the gentle pressure of gloved fingers against the back of her neck. She looked over her shoulder, caught sight of Liara out of the corner of her eye and responded with a nod. It was time. Everything changed as she adjusted to the confines of her helmet. The visor's tint concealed her expression. She was just another faceless grunt – albeit one wearing an extremely expensive suit of armour. With her free hand, she reached over her shoulder to claim the reassuring grip of her Harrier.

Liara settled into position at her side. Although her bondmate was wearing a faceless mask of her own, Shepard felt a sense of calm radiating outwards. She resisted the urge to reach out to her. Quiet moments for tenderness had long since passed. In moments their boots would hit the ground and there would be time for nothing except the mission at hand. At the back of Shepard's mind nestled her grave concerns about Miranda and Jack, but she had to accept the fact that the talented biotics were more than capable of taking care of themselves. Her priority had to be securing the settlement.

The shuttle hovered, whipping the blades of grass below into a frenzy. Shepard was the first onto the ground. As soon as her boots hit, she was moving. There was no need to tell the seasoned warriors at her back to follow her lead. Between Liara, Samara, Javik, and a squad of asari commandos, the biotic potential was immense.

Bright lights whizzed across her field of vision. Shepard's mind had to work to process the fact that someone was shooting at them, one shot even grazed her shields. _Huh, that's gunfire_. Liara's panicked shout drove her to recover quickly. She shouldered the Harrier and sent an excited burst in response. The impulse brought to mind advice she herself had given countless times – 'don't shoot unless you can see your target clearly.' Up ahead all she could see were shadows moving through the undergrowth. _Calm down_.

Behind her, Shepard could sense the rest of the squad fanning out in a practised formation. Only seconds later, she heard the sweet sound of the first of many biotic explosions. That was before an urgent shove sent her barrelling into the cover provided by a ruined vehicle.

Her shoulder plate slammed into the twisted metal. Liara tucked in beside her, Carnifex in hand. Even though Shepard could see nothing of her bondmate's face, she could clearly sense the frustration in Liara's posture.

"Just because you think you are invincible, does not mean you are!" the asari snapped. "Yes, it is a battle and it is exciting, but that does not mean you can simply stop and stare!"

"My reactions were a split second late, Liara," Shepard muttered. Although inwardly she was thinking it was quite exciting. Circumstances dictated against grinning, but she felt exhilarated all the same. "Are you going to follow me around and criticise every action I make?"

She knew Liara was glaring at her behind the visor. The moment passed quickly. Liara was already turning away, seconds later her body disappeared in a flash of blue energy as she threw herself into a biotic charge. Shepard resisted the urge to make a cutting retort over the comm, instead keeping her thoughts to herself. _And I think I'm invincible? I'm not the one showing off in front of a bunch of commandos._

The thump of gunfire against her cover brought Shepard back into focus. The fact that their shuttles hadn't drawn any fire prior to landing meant that the surprise had worked. Their unknown foe hadn't been expecting additional resistance. One advantage. It was also a probable indication that they had no idea of the numbers that had just landed. With one shuttle landing on the opposite side of the settlement, Shepard hoped that the ruse had created a degree of confusion. The second advantage. Now they just had to deal with the fact that the opposing force clearly had the numerical superiority and the advantage of anonymity. Her teams needed to hit hard and fast.

There was no clear pattern in the rattle of small arms fire that filled the air. One moment she heard the brutish repeat of a Mattock, the next the rapid patter of a Tempest punctuated by the solid retort of a Claymore. Nearby she could hear a symphony of biotic explosions, but she caught only blurs of movement. Two commandos remained at her side. Shepard could recognise neither behind their helmets, but she suspected that Liara had ordered them to stick with her.

The need for urgency pushed her from cover. Keeping low, Shepard moved into the dense undergrowth. As the terrain closed in, she stowed her Harrier and retrieved her Wraith. The compact shotgun whirred into life eagerly, as though it possessed a life of its own. The Jorgamund suit exceeded the promise it had shown within the confines of the ship. Moving felt effortless and Shepard had no difficulty in setting the pace for the two commandos. As she punched through into the settlement proper, she needed to replay Liara's warning in her mind. She wasn't invincible. It just felt like it.

The enemy finally started to take shape – although remaining anonymous in unmarked armour. Anonymous enough for Shepard to feel nothing other than a sense of purpose as she started to kill. The first fell all too quickly: a heavy-set figure clearly still responding the velocity of the attack, unable to bring a weapon up before Shepard unloaded the Wraith's clip into his chest. The first shot had been enough to punch through his armour and the second killed him outright, but she fired the third into the falling body regardless. Only as she was ramming a fresh clip into the weapon did she realise that her heart was hammering in her chest.

Kills came swiftly after that, everything became a blur in the muddy streets between the prefabs. With the two commandos providing all the heavy firepower she needed, Shepard moved building by building clearing a bloody path. In the close quarters, she was grateful for the Wraith. It was clear that the street fighting prior to their arrival had been just brutal. Occasionally Shepard would look down to find herself staring at a dead Alliance soldier. There was never enough time to confirm whether it Jack nor Miranda. Instead Shepard would push on, trusting that both her friends had managed to survive the onslaught.

The moment that Shepard dared to think that combat was easy, an unmistakable dark shape fell towards them.

"Grenade!" A split second after the word left her lips, the grenade impacted against the earth. Tendrils of electricity arced outwards, seemingly alive as they searched for her tumbling body. The moment her shoulder hit the ground, she rolled. Her shields flickered, but held. The earth sizzled and smoked in the wake of the arc grenade.

Tucking herself into cover, Shepard scanned her surrounds. She'd lost sight of the two commandos. Smoke and dust obscured her vision. Shepard wasn't overly worried. She knew most of the team were close by. She'd seen glimpses of Samara. Just as she remembered from their days aboard the _Normandy_ , the justicar preferred to fight alone but was no less effective for it.

"Liara? Any clues about their identity?"

She suspected that Liara was somewhere amongst the commandos, using their warp as a primer for her biotic charge.

_{Absolutely none.}_

Liara made her answer sound as though it was a personal insult that she was unable to ascertain the identity of their foe. Shepard could hardly blame her. So far she'd encountered humans, turians and batarians – Something massive burst out of a ruined doorway a scant distance in front of her. Her reactions kicked in and she threw her body to one side as an armoured figure barrelled past her, swinging its arm. Shepard narrowly avoided the wicked blade fixed below the barrel of a Claymore as it swept over her head.

_And one Krogan!_ Shepard thought as she tucked into a roll.

_{Have you located any civilians?}_

When she heard Liara's voice, Shepard was preoccupied with the Krogan that seemed to have made it his personal mission to reduce her to a bloody pulp. The initial wild swing of the Claymore was quickly followed by a savage thrust. Shepard was forced to throw herself into the dirt, scrambling back to her feet just as the Krogan pulled the trigger. Most of the spread missed, but a decent chunk slammed into her shields. Enough fragments passed through to ping against her armour. A ruined paint job was the least of Shepard's concerns as she turned, taking advantage of the Claymore's slow reload time.

_{Shepard?}_

"Bit busy here!" Shepard snapped as she surged forward.

She emptied the Wraith's clip directly at the Krogan. He responded with nothing more than disgusted grunt as the shot hacked at his shields, peppering the leathery grey skin on his face. Shepard had fought Krogan countless times before, throughout the galaxy, but there had always been a team backing her up. _So much for my bodyguards_.

The prospect of taking one on alone had never really occurred to her. _Because I'd have to be batshit crazy_ , she mused a split second before the Krogan charged for a second time – barrelling forward with a blood-curdling roar. Shepard thought she ought to feel fear as she effortlessly dodged the enthusiastic charge. What coursed through her veins wasn't fear at all, but exhilaration. As his massive bulk moved passed her, Shepard spun – deploying her omni-blade mid-movement – and used her momentum to drive the blade upwards. Angled perfectly, it pierced the weak point between two plates. The Krogan roared in pain, wrenching his body to one side and shattering the blade. Enraged, he discharged the Claymore at her moving body. The spread missed entirely. Fuelled by pain, he began stabbing. The thrusts were wild, but through sheer force Shepard found herself falling backwards. Instinctively Shepard snatched for the blade, hearing the dull clink of metal against the otherworldly substance of her left hand. Without knowing whether she actually _could_ , Shepard grasped and twisted. The blade sheared off at the base. Before the Krogan could react, Shepard flipped the broken blade. With a savage grunt she drove it upwards, forcing it through the leathery folds of skin at the Krogan's throat and up through the roof of his mouth. Following a surprised gurgle, the body dropped like a stone.

Shepard was already moving, reloading the Wraith as she pressed forward. It wasn't until she was forced to take cover from a hail of gunfire that she realised her heart was hammering in her chest.

_{Shepard?}_

"I'm fine, Li," Shepard replied breathlessly. She peered around the corner, flashes peppering her vision. "No civilians yet. Just one very dead Krogan."

A biotic thump nearby drew her attention. Her commando 'bodyguards' fell into place at her side, both wore sheepish expressions.

"I'm sorry, we lost you when that arc grenade went off. Cyrene's shields are fried," one apologised. She nodded towards her comrade who was slumped against a wall, looking decided singed around the edges.

"No explanations necessary. I've already got one asari babysitter, I don't need any more," Shepard replied, already searching for her next move. There was still heavy fighting in and around the settlement, but she could also hear gunfire in the distance. "This is Shepard: beta and delta squads, have we got anyone one click north?"

_{Negative, alpha,}_ It was Kurin answering _. {We haven't pushed that far out yet.}_

Shepard turned to her two companions. "My money's on the Alliance garrison. The two of you hold here. Don't do anything stupid with those shields down. Beta squad? Kurin, rendezvous on my position. I think we've got friendlies in need of some assistance."

_{We're just to your left flank. There's some resistance here but nothing that will delay us up for long.}_

The sensible part of Shepard knew that she should wait for beta squad, but her anxiety drove her forward. The gunfire continued up ahead, punctuated by light explosives and biotic explosions. She may have been hearing things, but Shepard was sure she heard the cascading thumps of Jack's shockwave.

Even as she moved, Shepard's mind was busy trying to analyse what was happening. She'd never been much for high level tactics, the kind where the brass plotted everything out and sent the grunts in to execute a plan which made no sense on the ground. The situation on Mindoir felt like one of those plans - all bang and absolutely no substance. If the attacking force's goal had been to achieve chaos, then they'd succeeded. However in terms of anything tangible, there was nothing other than a remote colony with no wealth.

_And currently no civilians_ , Shepard mused. A shadow gave away movement around the corner up ahead. She rounded slowly, startling a human woman wearing dark armour. Her shields went down with the first shot from the Wraith, the second blasted away much of her chest plate. The woman slumped, her youthful features twisted in pain beneath her visor. _Shit._ Shepard paused. The merc couldn't have been more than eighteen.

The woman rolled onto her back, staring up at Shepard with a terrified gaze. _What a waste._ Although her long years of service were telling her not to leave a wounded enemy at her back, Shepard couldn't bring herself to empty her clip into the helpless merc. Nor could she spare the time to do anything for the young woman.

Her jaw tight with anger, Shepard followed the sounds of combat up ahead. Signs of heavy fighting littered the ground – spent clips, scorch marks everywhere…and bodies. There were a few mercs, but most were Alliance. More kids. They'd survived the Reapers, only to be cut down for no apparent reason. There was still no evidence of Miranda or Jack. Shepard moved faster.

_{I need a medic at my coordinates five minutes ago!}_

Shepard immediately recognised Kurin's voice. The rest of the exchange was just noise in her ears as she broke into a controlled run.

* * *

 

With the human's blood drying on her hands, Kurin sat back on her haunches and let the medics work. Decades of training reminded her that she shouldn't remain in one place on a battlefield, but inwardly she was reeling. Kurin could not, and would not, bring herself to look at the woman lying only a few feet from her. She knew Miranda Lawson only from the picture she'd once seen, and from Ashley's limited comments. A trembling exhale escaped her lips. Of all the lives to save.

_{Shepard? Are you alright?}_

Kurin picked up on the unmistakable concern in Liara T'Soni's voice, even across the distance. Her first instinct was to play the seasoned commando to perfection, rolling her eyes at the connection. It lasted only as long as she ignored her own hypocrisy.

"Yes, fine. I'm with Miranda and Jack. They're both pretty banged up, but-"

_{We have no time for reunions, Evan. The_ Pserimos _has picked up more vessels incoming - at least half a dozen. Now might be a good time for one of your plans.}_

Kurin looked to Shepard. Stared hard. Their surprise attack had been wildly successful, but there were too few of them to mount any sort of resistance against a second wave. "You've got a plan for that?"

"No. I really don't."

Kurin was grateful for the honesty, but it didn't help matters. "Goddess."

She hadn't intended to say anything, and thankfully no one was listening to her. The medics were still working on the petite human. Kurin couldn't remember her name. There was little point in asking. Miranda Lawson was still sobbing quietly in Shepard's arms, oblivious to anything around her. Kurin's thoughts immediately went to scorn, before she banished them – feeling ashamed of herself.

Almost subconsciously, Kurin hauled herself to her feet. She swept her gaze across the horizon. She heard sporadic fighting around the settlement, however the rapid barrage of biotic explosions told her that they had probably won the field. For the time being at least.

"We need to get out of the open," Kurin said to anyone who would listen. _Or get the hell off this damn planet_.

"Miranda, hey…" Shepard prodded gently. "Where are the colonists? Are they safe?"

When Kurin didn't hear a reply, she supposed that Miranda had simply nodded. At least the irritating sobbing stopped. She didn't know the exact extent of their casualties. They were light, but their numbers had been paltry to begin with. Nowhere near enough for what was to come. And running was out of the question.

"Captain?"

The medic's face told Kurin everything she needed to know.

"She's fading fast. We need an immediate evac."

In all likelihood, it was too late. Kurin doubted whether the _Pserimos_ would be able to escape the system.

"No one else is dying here," Shepard growled in a harsh voice. "Call in the evac for Jack-"

_{We have confirmation on the incoming ships,}_ Liara's voice interrupted Shepard mid-sentence. _{They are not hostiles. It is a fleet from Omega.}_

"You're shitting me?" was Shepard's eloquent response.

_{I am having trouble believing it myself, but it appears as though Aria has decided to send actual troops after all.}_

It was Kurin's turn to gape stupidly. "You really are shitting me," she whispered. She didn't know what the human saying meant, but it sounded appropriate. _That bitch. She turned me down to my face, said it was a human problem._

Just over an hour later, the fighting had died altogether. With a small swarm of shuttles and several larger craft clustered around the settlement, Kurin felt secure enough to actually sit down and take a brief moment for herself, leaning against a prefab, pressing her cheek to the cool metal. She desperately needed to calm down.

Aria hadn't simply sent troops, the Queen of Omega had deigned to come to Mindoir herself.

Aria was out there now, sauntering about the battlefield, thinking herself some sort of saviour. Kurin narrowed her eyes. If she had to overhear someone else utter their profound gratitude to that bitch even one more time…well, the results would not be pretty. Arriving hours late and barely even lifting a finger to help was not impressive.

The help had come too late to save the lives of two of her squad.

The pathetic remainder of Mindoir's garrison had emerged from hiding. Less than a dozen humans, almost all walking wounded. Miranda Lawson had organised those that were able to retrieve Mindoir's colonists from the caves in which they had taken refuge. Kurin went out of her way to avoid Ashley's lover, but from a distance the calm, composed soldier bore no resemble to the sobbing mess of earlier. Worst of all, Miranda managed to wear blood and grime better than anyone Kurin had ever seen.

The dying human had been evac'ed to the _Pserimo_ s as soon as possible. Her prognosis was poor.

And throughout it all, Aria continuously hovered at the edge of her vision.

_Fucking, sanctimonious bitch_ , Kurin thought venomously. Still, a part of her was grateful. A very small part. The rest of her was apoplectic.

Kurin didn't know what was worse – being forced to witness Miranda Lawson's perfect face first hand, or the Queen of Omega's condescending presence. It was almost enough to force her to consider retreating to Thessia and taking up vows as an acolyte in the service of a lesser Matriarch. She already knew being an acolyte wouldn't make her happy, but at least she would retain her sanity.

"Hey, everything alright?"

She jerked into a standing position at the sound of Shepard's voice. Kurin turned to find the human soldier looking irritatingly composed and fresh enough to head back into action. There was barely even a mark on her matt black armour. Kurin fought down her veneration – _she's just one human_ – and fixed a scowl on her face instead.

"Of course. I was just taking a moment out. Sorry. Did you need me?"

"You don't need to apologise, Kurin," Shepard replied quickly. She hunkered down in front of Kurin, honest compassion on her face. "I'm sorry about your commandos. They fought bravely. As did all of you."

"Their names were Helia and Bax. They were exceptional girls." The dead commandos had hardly been girls. Both were several decades old than Kurin. "Still, we saved most of the colonists…and Miranda Lawson." She didn't intend to sound quite so bitter about it.

"You wish you hadn't?"

The scowl deepened. "What kind of an individual do you think I am?"

"An honest one," Shepard said as she rose back to her feet. A weary sigh indicated that she was still an ordinary human.

"I hate her, I don't wish her dead." Kurin muttered. She was anxious to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory. "Now what? We've saved the colonists. Do we leave them to fend for themselves?"

Shepard shook her head. "They'd be sitting ducks without the presence of the garrison. There's no other option but to take them with us when we leave."

Although it wasn't remotely amusing, Kurin snorted. "To Omega? I'd love to see Aria's face when you make that request. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to provide a nursery service for several hundred human colonists-" She paused. Shepard was staring at her with a strange, almost smug expression on her face. "Why do I get the feeling you know something I don't?"

Much to Kurin's irritation, Shepard began walking away without answering the question. In that moment Kurin realised just how infuriating the human was.

"Shepard?" she demanded.

"Aria has already offered her hospitality," Shepard finally replied.

Kurin was left gaping like an idiot.

* * *

 

"What kind of game are you playing?"

When the Queen of Omega turned around, Kurin did her best not to flinch at the predatory expression on Aria's face. This was dangerous territory to tread, but she'd long since ceased caring what Aria would do to her if sufficiently enraged.

Regardless of her probable future as a bloody corpse, it was too late to decide against the confrontation. And Kurin couldn't deny that a part of her wanted it. Aria waved away the handful of attendants in their vicinity, creating some measure of privacy in the lee of a pre-fab. _Leaving no witnesses to murder_ , Kurin thought, trying to suppress the irrational desires that flooded her core. Then Aria's lips curved upwards in a contemptuous sneer and her fury returned.

"These are people's lives you're playing with!" Kurin stalked forward, stabbing her finger in Aria's chest. "You can't just shift them around like cargo…like eezo! They're not a commodity to be bargained with."

"Why not? They have a value, the same as everything else."

"They haven't escaped one lot of slavers to end up in the hands of others!"

Aria's smile disappeared suddenly, replaced by a fury of her own. She advanced, forcing Kurin to take several steps back. "Whatever you think I am, whatever I may be, I don't deal with fucking slavers!"

Kurin felt the heat radiating off Aria's body and her knees almost buckled. _This is ridiculous_ , she thought as she squared her shoulders. _I don't want to fuck her. Ever._

"Forgive me if I think your motives are anything but altruistic," Kurin replied. She was beginning to regret speaking to Aria at all.

"And why would I care what you think, little soldier?" Aria's voice was cold, her eyes narrow.

Kurin shook her head in disbelief. "I asked for your help, and you refused. You said this wasn't your fight."

"I am here because I chose to come. Saving lives is not purely the domain of heroes."

"You _chose_ to come to Mindoir to help defend an Alliance garrison from attack, then you _chose_ to agree to uplift the entire population? Why? Because you're saving lives?" Kurin refused to be cowed by Aria's physical presence. "By the Goddess I'll find out what you're doing, and if you hurt any of these people…" Her voice trailed off. How was one supposed to threaten Aria T'Loak?

Aria simply regarded her with an amused expression, as though she was some species of performing animal.

"The real question here is why do you care enough to try to threaten me?" Aria asked. She was already walking away, having decided that the conversation was over. "Run off and find yourself some useful employment, little soldier. I'm sure Shepard's boots need kissing."

Kurin waited until she could no longer see Aria before allowing herself the luxury of a deep breath. She slumped against an obliging wall, wondering what she had done to piss the Goddess off to deserve her current situation.

A career as an acolyte was looking more appealing with each passing day.

* * *

 

**AHC _Pserimos_ , In Transit**

The lights were dimmed low in the _Pserimos_ ' medbay. Enough so that it should have been both instinctive and necessary for Miranda to succumb to sleep, but she stubbornly refused to allow herself such a luxury. Her sole concession to bodily comfort had been to remove her armour. She remained in her filthy compression suit. Her face was still encrusted with the dirt and grime from Mindoir, save for a shiny swath of medigel covering the gash on her forehead. An insistent and painful ache radiated out from her thigh, where the debris had struck during their flight, but Miranda hadn't even bothered to look at it. A limp for a few days wasn't going to kill her.

All in all, she'd escaped the carnage on Mindoir relatively unscathed, making the wretched manner in which she'd broken down in front of Shepard and the asari commandos all the more embarrassing. She was alive, which was more than she could say for most of Mindoir's garrison, and the only lasting scars would be those of her own creation.

Unlike Jack. Naked save for a medical gown and thermal blanket, the petite biotic appeared to be only a few steps removed from death itself. Miranda tilted forward on her chair, studying the rise and fall of Jack's chest - as though her concentration would somehow keep Jack alive. Despite the extent of the damage her tiny frame had taken, Jack stubbornly and steadily continued to breathe.

"Game's up, Jack. I know your agenda," Miranda spoke aloud even though Jack was unconscious. "You wouldn't want to pass up the opportunity to spend even more time pissing me off."

Her lip twitched into the barest of smiles when she remembered where they'd started. Jack had been half-feral and constantly snarling with pent up rage following the breakout from Purgatory. Miranda had viewed the convict as little more than an animal, viciously arguing against recruiting her into the _Normandy's_ crew. Never in a million years would she have expected to find herself watching over an unconscious Jack, actively concerned whether the other woman would wake up.

Miranda startled when she heard the door open. Her body jerked away from the bed. Clearly her subconscious was unnerved at the fact that she had been hovering over Jack. She felt no relief when she saw Shepard standing just inside the threshold, if anything her ex-lover's presence made the whole situation worse.

"How's she doing?"

"Vitals are stable for the most part. Brain activity is erratic - a good sign."

It was a clinically detached answer, revealing nothing of the feelings she kept buried. Miranda wanted Jack to wake up. She _needed_ Jack to wake up. After all, it was how a friend would feel. However, she had forgotten just how well Shepard knew her. Shepard simply folded her arms and tilted her head to one side. Miranda came slightly undone. "Jack's too damn stubborn to die."

"Of that I have no doubt," Shepard replied, closing the distance between them. "How are _you_ holding up, Miranda?"

Shepard had come to stop just behind Miranda's shoulder, so close that she could almost feel the warmth radiating off the ex-Commander's body.

Miranda swallowed. Her throat was dry. "You can see for yourself that I'm fine, Shepard."

"I'm not here to argue with you or tell you what you should be doing, but this...sitting here in the dark, torturing yourself, it's not healthy. Jack will live or die on her own terms, not because you're here watching her like a hawk."

"I suppose you're going to tell me to get some rest?"

"That...and to tell you that Liara's made contact with Ashley," Shepard announced quietly. "They're in the middle of a briefing at present but there will be time for the two of you to talk...if that's what you want."

She immediately noticed the slow deliberation of Shepard's words, carrying with them a hint of caution. Miranda didn't even bother to summon a sigh. Of course Shepard knew. In fact her ex-lover probably knew even more than she did.

Miranda bit her bottom lip, tasting blood and salt. Despite forgiving Ash, that wound was still raw. The relevant question lay poised on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to ask it. It wouldn't be Shepard's place to say and Miranda doubted whether it was even something she needed to know.

Ash was hitting the ground in a few hours, she'd play the role of the dutiful girlfriend.

"Will you let me know if Jack's condition changes?" Miranda asked as she stood to leave.

"Of course," Shepard replied promptly, but she regarded Miranda with a quizzical expression. "You and Jack? Have things moved past wanting to smear each other across the walls of the _Normandy_?"

Miranda looked over her shoulder. "That was always Jack's thing, not mine. But…you might say that."

Although the walk through the corridors was a relatively short distance, it seemed to take an age. At first Miranda let herself feel nothing more than a sense of obligation. It was a ridiculous notion, designed to trick herself into thinking that she still harboured some amount of resentment towards Ash. By the time she reached the comms station, leaning against a bulkhead as she waited for Liara, her anticipation had made her almost giddy.

"I am sorry I do not have more to give you, Ashley," Liara was saying. "There is a team working on tracing material we took from Mindoir, but their analysis will not be complete in time to be of any use to you. The best I can do is to urge caution. The force we encountered was both well-equipped and well-trained."

_{You know me, doc, I'm not exactly known for my caution,}_ Ashley replied. _{Especially where family is concerned. But we won't be going in blind thanks to you.}_

Miranda couldn't see the screen, but the tone of Ash's voice spoke volumes. Her lover was tired. Fatigue clung to every word. Despite the light-hearted remark, Ash sounded scared. The prospect of being able to reassure Ash in some small way tugged Miranda forward.

Wearing only thermal booties, her footsteps made no sound. Liara turned to look at her nevertheless, offering up a gentle nod to indicate that she was ready to step aside.

"Stay safe, Ashley."

_{You're signing off?}_

"Not quite. I have someone here whom you might be more interested to speak with."

Liara stepped aside, allowing Miranda full access to the small screen. Somehow she schooled her features into a mask of calm – more for Ash's sake than her own. Wavering slightly when Ash's expression morphed into one of uncensored relief and joy.

_{Hey you.}_ Already some of the fatigue had disappeared from Ash's voice. _{I was kinda worried you wouldn't want to talk to me, at least not yet.}_

"Only you would be ridiculous enough to think that," Miranda retorted in a soft voice.

Somewhere at the back of her mind she was aware of Liara making a discreet exit. Her focus remained on the screen. Ash looked as tired as she sounded. Dark circles ringed both eyes and her usually flawless skin was pale and patchy. The truly awful purple hair was still present - growing out at the roots - adding to an air of dishevelment. Overall it was a persona that was a galaxy away from the buttoned up marine Miranda had first met. It wasn't the face of someone who looked as though they should be heading into combat. Miranda suppressed her anxiety, fixing a determined smile on her face instead.

_{I knew you'd pull through,}_ Ash said, her dark eyes practically burning through the screen. _{Are you alright?}_

"Yes. Unscathed, really...but I wouldn't be talking to you if it wasn't for Jack." Somehow it was important to Miranda that Ash knew that fact. "She saved my life, nearly giving her own in the process."

_{Then she saved mine as well.}_ Ash suddenly turned her head, as though distracted by something off screen. She responded to whomever or whatever it was with a curt nod. Her lips were parted slightly when she looked back to Miranda. _{You know I want nothing more than to stand here talking to you all day, but duty calls, sweet cheeks.}_

"You really need to stop calling me that." Miranda wasn't in the slightest bit serious. "And I should hope that you want to do more than simply stand around and talk to me."

Ash's expression lightened. "You know full well what I want to do to you."

"Then stay safe," Miranda said as an intense warmth flooded her cheeks. "Find Sarah. Come back to me."

_{I'll be back before you know it.}_

"I'm serious, Ash." Miranda leaned close to the screen. "Remember everything Liara said. These aren't random mercs. And you're not back to full health."

_{Chakwas cleared me for duty,}_ Ash replied somewhat stiffly.

"Don't go all defensive on me, Ashley Williams. Chakwas is your CMO, I'm your girlfriend. I'm not saying you shouldn't lead the ground team, just that you need to remember you're only human."

_{That I'm not Shepard you mean.}_

"No. I don't. The only comparison is in your head. The Galaxy needs you, Ashley Williams, regardless of what doubts you might have." Miranda paused, bit her lip. "I need you. That never changed. Regardless-" Miranda stopped herself before she could finish the sentence - _Regardless of what you did_. "I love you."

_{I love you too, M.}_ Ash's lips curled into a brief smile. All too brief. _{And I can't promise that I will take things easy, but I will be careful. I'm getting damn sick of all these vid conversations with you. Williams out.}_

The communication ended. _So I am, my love,_ Miranda thought, staring at the empty black screen as though it had swallowed any vestige of what was good in her life. She turned away. An odd thought filtered into her head. How was it that someone like her could descend so deeply into the saccharine clutches of romantic love? She paused and drew in a deep breath. In the past she'd always made a point of remaining aloof, making it easy to extricate herself from her lovers.

Shepard had almost been different. At least in the fact that she had actually been in love, although unwilling to admit it to herself for a long time. However that particular problem had been solved for her. Shepard and Liara were meant to be. She'd only ever been a warm body in the cold. Miranda shivered slightly. She was being an idiot.

Her need for sleep had only intensified, but Miranda knew sinking into unconsciousness would be next to impossible. Not while Ashley was on the ground. Instead she gravitated back to the infirmary.

Shepard was still there, keeping her promise to watch over Jack. The fact that the soldier was still wearing her compression suit was the only hint that she had also been in combat several hours earlier. Otherwise Shepard looked as though she was ready to go another round. As Miranda reclaimed her seat at Jack's side, the scientist in her briefly speculated how fascinating it would be to study the woman sitting opposite her. The inappropriate thoughts were quickly scrubbed from her mind, but not before Shepard picked up on her furrowed brow.

"What?" Shepard asked simply.

Miranda shook her head. It wasn't a deliberate attempt to be difficult, merely an unwillingness to share. She shifted her gaze to Jack instead. Nothing had changed. Jack lay on her back, lips parted slightly in unconsciousness. Miranda half expected the woman's eyes to snap open, an expletive ready. _"What the fuck are you doing sitting beside my bed, Cheerleader?"_ Jack could call her Cheerleader for the rest of her life. She wouldn't care. As long as Jack woke up. Miranda tried to tell herself it was simply because she didn't want Jack's death on her conscience. Unfortunately, she knew otherwise.

"Do you have a plan?" Miranda asked. She didn't know why that particular question slipped out. They'd only just clawed themselves out of one mess. Ashley was about to be in the midst of another.

She looked up, met Shepard's gaze again. They'd always been honest with one another. Often brutally so. Shepard wasted no time in shaking her head. Miranda was hardly surprised. This was unlike anything they had faced before. Dealing with the Reapers was almost simple in comparison.

"Everything I have is at your disposal, Shepard. However little that is worth these days."

"It's worth everything," Shepard replied quickly. "Don't sell yourself short."

A self-deprecating laugh emerged from Miranda's lips. She leaned back in her chair and held out her hands, palms up. "This is the sum total of everything I have. Me. I have nothing else."

The flood of emotions was surprising, until Miranda remembered how desperately tired she was. Shepard's expression looked suspiciously like pity. Miranda wanted none of it.

"You must have something better to do."

Shepard shook her head. "Nope."

"I was politely asking to be alone." Miranda hunched forward again, closing herself off.

If she was being honest with herself, she would have asked Shepard to stay. Somewhere at the back of her mind, probably born out of jealousy, was the desperate need to uncover the other party in Ash's infidelity. Shepard knew who it was. Of that Miranda was certain. Petty thoughts aside, first and foremost she simply wanted to talk with someone who could help her make sense of it all. Jack had helped - in her own unique fashion - but Miranda needed more. She needed someone to tell her what she had done wrong.

"You should sleep," Shepard chastised gently, already moving towards the door. "I won't be far if you need me."

With Shepard gone, Miranda settled back into her chair. It was hard, guaranteeing that she would not fall asleep anytime soon.

Time passed in an indiscernible fashion. Marked only by Jack's laborious breaths.

With the silence restored, Miranda's thoughts were given free reign. It gave her time to admit her asinine line of thinking. There was nothing to be gained from the knowledge she sought. What use would a name be? Or a face? Other than to compare of course, and Miranda already knew she didn't want to go down that route. She slumped forward, clasping her face in her hands. A part of her wished that she was still on Mindoir. At least fighting for her life gave her something to do.

Miranda didn't move until she heard the swish of the door. Even then she simply straightened, suspecting that Shepard had returned to bodily drag her out of the infirmary.

"Ms Lawson?"

It wasn't Shepard. Miranda had enough pride left to be embarrassed at her filthy state, but she looked up at the newcomer as though there was nothing out of the ordinary. The dusky skinned asari with pink markings was immediately familiar. Despite the chaos of those moments, she wouldn't forget the face of the individual who had come to her rescue. The asari remained just over the threshold, her manner clearly agitated.

"Captain Kurin. Please, call me Miranda." Miranda rose to her feet, not realising that it was a mistake until she needed to discreetly clutch at the bed to help her remain upright. She felt faint and nauseous, desperately trying to disguise her weakness by moving forward, extending her hand. "I believe I owe you my life."

Kurin accepted Miranda's outstretched hand. The asari's palm was cold and clammy, but the handshake was firm. "I was just doing my job."

Miranda tilted her head to one side. "An asari captain under the command of a human fugitive, rescuing humans. That seems to be going above and beyond your job."

Kurin withdrew her hand quickly and squared her shoulders. "Shepard isn't simply humanity's hero."

"No, she's not. Forgive me, Captain, I have made you uncomfortable and that wasn't my intention. Quite the opposite actually." Miranda had no desire to question the asari captain's reason for being involved. Despite her exhaustion, she was shifting back into Operative mode. Apparently old habits were difficult to shake, and analysing the situation took her mind off other things. "Shepard is a compelling individual, but she would not have been able to save Mindoir's colonists without help. I must confess that I am still struggling to understand why Aria T'Loak would involve herself to such an extent."

"Aria's reasons are her own," Kurin replied in a guarded voice. "And she does not do anything without personal gain."

"Agreed." Miranda loathed Omega, and Aria, self-styled Queen of criminals and scum. Aria was also an unknown quantity, something that no one could control. "But I digress, you did not come here to get dragged into a political discussion."

A hint of a smile creased Kurin's lips. "Another time perhaps. I came to offer you the use of my quarters - to shower and rest. After all that has happened, I thought you could use a quiet space."

Miranda inclined her head. "You're very kind, Kurin, but I couldn't possibly-"

"Refusal is out of the question. I insist."

"Then...thank you. Again." The prospect of a shower almost drove Miranda to tears. She turned to cast one last look at the bed, feeling a stab of guilt at the thought of leaving Jack alone.

"I can stay with your friend," Kurin offered quietly.

"Jack," Miranda replied, smiling her gratitude. "Her name is Jack. And thank you. I'm further indebted to you."

"You owe me nothing, Miranda," Kurin was quick to reply, unable to meet Miranda's gaze for some reason. "Nothing."

* * *

 

**SSV _Normandy_ , Chasca Approach**

Although the relief of having seen Miranda safe and sound was immense, Ashley couldn't afford to lose focus. She tightened her grip on the rail in front of her, as though somehow staring at the Galaxy Map would carry the _Normandy_ to Chasca faster. After pushing the frigate beyond all reasonable limits, they were less than an hour out. Ash closed her eyes for a moment, praying that they would arrive in time - for Sarah and for all of Chasca's colonists.

"Ma'am?"

Ash opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder, even though she already knew she'd find Lieutenant Grenier. She'd never seen the man look so unkempt. Grenier looked as though he'd slept in his uniform and had simply rolled straight out of bed. Ash let everything slide. Someone he loved was on the ground, and he was sick with anxiety. She knew exactly how he felt.

Grenier had requested to join the ground team hours earlier, as Ash would have expected. Disappointment had clearly registered in his gaze when she'd turned him down, but he remained the consummate marine. She was grateful for that. It was strictly against regs, but there was plenty of precedent on the _Normandy_ for both the Captain and the XO serving on the same ground team. However Shepard had vets like Garrus Vakarian to back her up. Ash didn't have the same depth of experience in her current crew. With one last glance towards their destination, Ash descended from the platform and stopped just short of her XO.

"Lieutenant..." Ash paused and lowered her tone slightly before she continued, "Leon…I know just how difficult this is, but I'll do everything in my power to keep Sarah safe. I'll get her out of there and back to us."

He nodded. "I trust that you will, Captain Williams."

"The Command is yours, XO," Ash said as she made her way towards the elevator. "I'll be in the shuttle bay until we drop."

"Godspeed, ma'am," Grenier replied sincerely.

Ash paused, a slight frown on her face. "I didn't know you believed in God."

"I don't," he shrugged. "But you do. If it helps, even a little bit, then I'm willing to give it a go."

"To tell the truth-" _What? I don't know what I believe anymore? How reassuring is that?_ Ash sighed. "It does help, Leon, and we're going to need all the help we can get."

Ash dwelt on Grenier's professionalism as she made her way down to the shuttle bay. She felt for the young Lieutenant, having to remain on the ship while his girlfriend was in danger. She could only guess as to what her response would have been had Shepard decided to leave her out of the team bound for Sanctuary. On one hand she would liked to have thought that she would have behaved as professionally as her XO. However, if she was being honest with herself, Ashley knew that she would have let her emotions get the better of her.

Still, Miranda was safe. All going well on Chasca, they would actually see each other within days. With the mere thought of seeing Miranda again threatening to override everything else, she banished it to the back of her mind. She opened her locker and focused on its contents instead. Her Black Widow nestled at the centre. Ash reached for the sniper rifle instinctively, but she stopped just short of touching it. She reached for her Valkyrie instead.

Sam Traynor was standing on the opposite side of the bench when she turned around. Unlike Ash, the Ops Chief was already fully kitted out. Compared to the first time she'd donned armour some months earlier, Sam was starting to look at ease in the hardsuit. The Locust SMG that Ashley had specially modified was strapped to Sam's leg.

"All set, Traynor?" Ash set the Valkyrie on the table and methodically began stripping her uniform.

"Five by, ma'am," Sam replied in a tight voice. "I heard the team on Mindoir had it rough. Do you think Chasca will be as bad?"

"No idea," Ash's voice was muffled as she pulled her shirt over her head. "Scanners are only picking up three vessels in orbit."

"Only?" Sam laughed sarcastically.

Ash caught the slight twinge of panic in Sam's voice and the fear in her expression. While Ash wasn't worried about the numbers they were up against, she was terrified for her baby sister. However unlike Sam, she couldn't afford to let it show. "C'mon, Traynor. You serve on the _Normandy_. When have the odds ever been that good?"

"It's just that I'm not normally groundside with people shooting at me."

"Surely you haven't forgotten about Gurkhan already? You were groundside with an entire merc army shooting at you."

"You do have a point, ma'am," Traynor replied, a slight grin creeping onto her face.

Now clad in her underwear, Ash caught Traynor staring at her for a few moments longer than was strictly comfortable. She'd almost managed to forget that her skin was still covered in Calisto Callaghan's tattoos.

"Shit," she whispered, mostly to herself. "Miranda's heading to Omega. We get done with this op and she's going to want to...well, suffice to say, she's going to see these works of art."

Sam had since turned her back. "In all honesty, I don't think the Lieutenant is going to care."

Perhaps Sam was right. And at that moment God awful tattoos ought to have been the least of her concerns. Ash resumed her preparations, rolling her compression suit up over her legs. She ignored the way in which the usually skin tight garment now hung loosely around her thighs and hips. Regardless of her lack of conditioning, the act of suiting up brought with it the focus she had so desperately been searching for. Methodically, Ash went through the motions. She'd performed the same tasks so many times, she knew everything by route. The pieces of her hardsuit snapped into place, sealing the most fragile parts of herself away from the chaos that was to come.

With the Valkyrie stowed on her back and her helmet tucked under her arm, preparations were complete. By now the rest of the ground team were filtering into the shuttle bay. Most were already kitted out, some were performing last minute checks on their gear and weapons. Ash scanned those assembled. She had vets like Petrova and Fleeting, but there were still too many FNGs amongst their ranks. Kids like Hwang and Swift who still hadn't seen enough action. Those that were unused to combat like Sam Traynor. Still, it was what she had to work with...and they were all _Normandy_ crew. Every last one of them.

Ash cleared her throat, yelled out over the soft din. "Listen up, marines! Stop your smokin' and jokin'. Briefing in five!" She turned to find Sam still staring at her weapons locker. "Everything alright, Traynor?"

"Sorry, of course. It's just that…you're not taking your Black Widow?"

Ash shook her head. Although she felt naked without the sniper rifle, she made no move to retrieve it. "No, I'll need to keep my eyes on everything for this one. That gun limits my field of view, makes everything seem distant. As much as I love the Widow, she needs to stay here."


	44. Sunset and Evening Star

**A/N:** The following chapter carries a warning for major character death.

**Chasca, Matano System**

A sharp noise startled Sarah Williams awake. She sat up, biting her lip to trap the sound in her throat. It wouldn't do to scream here, not when there were things out there hunting them. Sarah remained completely still - just breathing and reorienting herself. Before she adjusted to wakefulness, her first action was to reassure herself with the feel of cold metal. She'd fallen asleep cradling an assault rifle as though it was a safety blanket. The analogy was apt. For someone who had little previous experience with a rifle, even during the War, the weapon now barely left her grasp.

Gradually Sarah picked out the huddled forms of others around her. Comrades? Acquaintances? Fellow survivors? It didn’t matter that she couldn't find the right word, she was grateful for their presence. There were so few of them left after the chaos of the initial attack. The only reason any of them were left at all was because they needed to be taken alive. Sarah had watched from the shadows as others were dragged away – most of them mercifully unconscious, but some screaming and fighting every step of the way. The only thing she knew for certain was that she wasn't going to let that happen to her. She'd die first. Unfortunately, it was a decision that she would have to have to make sooner rather than later.

The net was tightening around them. Hopelessness shrouding everything. There were few places left to hide and nowhere left to run. Chasca's perpetual twilight ensured that was impossible. Sarah closed her eyes, trying to shut her circumstances out for a few more minutes. It was self-indulgent and cowardly, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything else. She tried to linger in memories of happier times. Her childhood, cocooned in the protective embrace of three older sisters. Falling in love with her childhood sweetheart, then marrying him. In the silence of her mind, the thoughts created only more fear and doubt. Sarah knew she would never be the marine that Tom was, and she most certainly would never match her eldest sister. Sarah opened her eyes, no longer content to linger in denial.

_Ash would know what to do_ , Sarah thought, absently stroking her rifle. _Ash would have found a way out of the whole damn mess_ \- even if that way out was simply causing as much hurt and destruction as possible before her death. Hot tears burned at Sarah's eyes. Death was not something she wanted to seek. More than anything, Sarah wanted to live. Her thoughts flitted to Leon. It was barely even a relationship, consisting of just that one heated kiss several months earlier and a string of emails and vid calls. Yet there was the promise of so much more. Especially now, when they were supposed to be enjoying their hard-fought peace.

_Peace?_ _Tell that to those faceless bastards hunting us,_ Sarah thought, feeling a strong sense of the unfairness of it all. Hadn't they suffered enough?

"Williams?"

Sarah had been lost in thought. Her gaze focused on the pale, drawn face of the man sitting opposite her, before shifting to the offering that was being held out towards her. A scrap of dried meat, barely even a mouthful. Still, Sarah accepted it with a nod of appreciation. It wouldn't touch the sides of her gnawing hunger, but it was something to wash away the taste of ash and bile in her mouth.

"Thanks, Burd," Sarah replied in the midst of chewing. As she studied the older man's face, she was forced to acknowledge that he was still very much a stranger. Before the attack, their paths had never crossed in daily life. She'd since learned that he was a veteran, but nothing more. He'd saved her life at least twice already.

"Got any more of that?"

Sarah didn't need to look in the direction of the voice. She already knew it was Clyne – an opinionated woman who had done nothing to help the group and everything to dampen their spirits. Burd ripped off a piece of his own portion, tossing it to Clyne without a word.

"So when do we get the hell out of here?" Clyne pressed, asking much the same question that she had asked a few hours earlier.

"We've discussed this," Burd replied in a harsh whisper. "Our best chance for survival is to lay low, wait it out. The Alliance won't let this stand. They'll come for their own."

Clyne snorted disdainfully. "You think they give a fuck about some backwater colony? Newsflash, you stupid grunt, those self-righteous assholes aren't coming to rescue us. I'm sure as hell not going to sit around patiently waiting for those damn slavers to find us." Clyne turned her attention away from Burd and focused her burning gaze on Sarah. "What about you, princess? Don't tell me you're in a hurry to end up as some alien's fuck toy?"

Sarah stiffened at Clyne's words. Lynn had often teased her that she was a prude. She would have been offended if it wasn't the truth. "No." She was going to leave it at that, but Clyne had succeeded in drawing her ire. "But I'm not in any hurry to die either. I'm with Burd. The Alliance will come." _My sister will come_.

Further conversation was made redundant following the sound of an explosion beyond the walls of their shelter. Sarah's first response was to tuck her rifle against her shoulder. As the sound faded, her awareness centred on her heart – it was thudding wildly.

One of the other survivors risked looking out of one of the grime-covered windows. A second explosion tore through the air. Closer. The windows shook. The survivor dropped to the floor, eyes wide. "Shit, I think they've given up trying to take us alive. They're blowing everything to hell."

"I told you!" Clyne hissed, darting to her feet. "We should've ended this when we had the chance. Now thanks to you sacks of shit, we're going to die without even a fucking whimper."

"With the firepower they're dropping, there will be smoke," Burd said in a calm voice. "Use it as cover, get the hell out, head for the outskirts. The abandoned prefabs near the Archer farm. We'll rendezvous there."

Sarah watched as the first of them made their exit. She held her breath, but there was no resulting cascade of weapons fire to mow them down. Surely the Alliance was closing in on Chasca and their hell was measured in hours as opposed to days? _Ash, where the hell are you?_ Sarah thought as she waited for the others to move out. Everyone was in a hurry to leave. Even as she pitied them, she could hardly feel any sense of blame. They wanted to live, as did she.

Finally, it was just Burd and Clyne remaining. Sarah suspected the other woman wanted to charge in the opposite direction, as opposed to fleeing out the back. Burd was clearly waiting for her. At the moment that he extended his hand, beckoning her forward, the walls around them suddenly burst inwards accompanied by flame and a deafening noise. As if everything unfolded in slow motion, Sarah watched as a chunk of metal slammed into Burd's chest. The image was burned into Sarah's eyes, even as she was engulfed by debris. She hugged the floor, shielding her head until the worst of it had passed. She coughed in an effort to clear the dirt that clogged her throat.

When she finally remembered that she needed to move, Sarah found her lower body unresponsive. There was nothing, not even a pain response, just a sense of an all-encompassing grasp that was not about to release her.

Twilight streamed through the exposed skeleton of the building. Sudden movement opposite drew a whimper from Sarah's throat, quickly morphing into relief when she saw it wasn't a slaver, but rather Clyne.

"Something's got me pinned." There was no element of pleading in Sarah's voice, simply a statement of fact.

Clyne was bleeding profusely from a head wound, but otherwise unharmed. The woman's eyes however were wild, darting back and forth between Sarah and some unknown point in the distance. Realisation hit Sarah at the moment that Clyne shook her head. Then the woman was gone. Sarah didn't bother calling out. On one hand she knew it would be futile, on the other she felt a sense of disgust at having to rely on someone who was that much of a coward.

As she tried to free herself, Sarah felt nothing other than a sense of inevitability. Even if she somehow did manage to drag her legs free, the fact that she couldn't feel anything was hardly positive. Sarah told herself she wasn't giving up, but the sinking feeling in her gut said otherwise. She pressed her cheek against the floor, listening to the rattle of breath in her throat and the sounds in the distance. Scattered gunfire, shouts and screams. It was the only possible outcome.

When she first heard the bootfalls, Sarah was sure it was her imagination conjuring the dreaded sound. With each passing moment, they intensified until they could be nothing else. She refused to play dead. Instead she kept both eyes open in a challenging stare. Whatever was coming, she wanted to be able to look it in the eye.

"Looks clear – "

Accompanying the voice was a dark silhouette. The figure scurried a few steps forward, the weak light suddenly illuminating the blue and white armour – Alliance logo on the breast. Sarah dared to let out the breath she had been holding.

"No wait, we got a live one!"

The marine hunkered down at Sarah's side. His youthful face broke into a reassuring smile, broadening when he saw her uniform. "We've got your back, ma'am."

"That obvious I need help, huh?"

Sarah's smile was more of a grimace. She was starting to feel her legs, which in itself was a good thing but it hurt like hell. Almost overriding the pain was a palpable sense of relief. The Alliance hadn't abandoned them.

"Survivors, Cameron?"

A second marine joined the first. Sarah glanced up. The newcomer wasn't wearing a helmet, revealing bronzed skin and jet-black hair. There was something familiar in the face, but Sarah dismissed the thoughts as a product of pain and exhaustion.

"Just one, Captain Alves. She's the first we've found. It looks as though we're too late for the rest."

"Fuck!" the Captain swore passionately. "Fuck those bastards."

The marine paused, pinching the bridge of her nose as though she was struggling with emotion. Sarah felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

"There were other survivors. They ran towards the south," Sarah offered. The thought that someone like Clyne might live while Burd was dead suddenly made her angry. She fought back against the uncharacteristic response, focusing instead on Captain Alves. "I knew the Alliance would come. No one can fault you for doing your best."

The resulting smile on the captain's face was warm, but tinged with something else that Sarah couldn't quite recognise. The gaze also changed slightly. It was barely noticeable other than in the slight furrowing of a brow.

"Private Cameron?"

"Ma'am?"

"Push forward with the rest of Bravo squad, look for more survivors," Alves ordered as she moved closer to Sarah "I'll call up a corpsman and see if we can get this soldier free."

With a last smile in Sarah's direction, the private responded to the order, leaving Sarah alone with Captain Alves. The pain was still very much present, but it had faded to a manageable level – or at least to the point where she didn't want to scream. _Crush injuries_. Sarah contemplated the situation as though it was just another patient, rather than a self-diagnosis. _Definitely shattered bone_. The stabbing pains were evidence enough of that. _Possibly arterial damage_. _Lifting this stuff off is going to hurt like hell. If I don't bleed out_.

"Just hang in there a little longer," Alves said as she knelt at Sarah's side and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The smile on the captain's face had morphed into something odd. "I'm not going to leave you here by yourself. What's your name, soldier?"

"Williams, Sarah Williams. I was…I'm a Med Tech with the garrison."

"Williams huh?" Alves cocked an eyebrow. "Must be frustrating to have the same surname as the Alliance's most famous marine?"

"Oh, she's been frustrating me my entire life, ma'am. Ashley is my older sister," Sarah admitted readily.

"That so? I thought you looked familiar."

"You know her?"

Alves nodded. "I had the pleasure once, circumstances conspired to keep us from knowing each other well however. You sister is…a force to be reckoned with. Not to mention so very important to the Alliance Navy – as a soldier and as a figurehead. I've never met a grunt that doesn't admire her, or want to be her." A sigh escaped Alves' lips "It's a pity she's so fucking pig-headed. For her…and more importantly, for you."

"Ma'am?"

Sarah suddenly felt a fresh pain rip through her left leg. She opened her mouth to scream but found her mouth encased in a vice-like grip. She desperately tried to prise the clamped fingers away from her mouth, but Alves was too strong…and she felt as though her strength was draining with each passing second.

Sarah's eyes went wide as realisation dawned. The Alliance had not come to save her after all.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Alves whispered as she drove the knife further into Sarah's artery before withdrawing it with a cruel jerk. The marine was no longer smiling, and her gaze was cold. "I know it's no consolation to you, but this needs to happen to restore order. Humanity thanks you for your sacrifice."

* * *

 

Ashley Williams wanted nothing more than to press her cheek against the cool metal of the Kodiak's bulkhead. For some reason her skin felt as though it was burning. Despite the regulators built into her suit, her undersuit clung to her skin, soaked with sweat. If she didn't know better, Ash would have thought that she was coming down with an illness.

The truth was something far more mundane. Ash was scared.

However, now more than ever, she needed to keep her emotions in check. To those marines around her, Ash projected nothing other than an aura of calm. For all the personal stakes implicit in the mission, she needed to remain professional. Now more than ever. As difficult as it was, recent events had forced her to consider the burdens of leadership in a new light.

Wars weren't won without sacrifice. To be the kind of leader that was needed, Ash needed to be able to make those calls. The ones that sent soldiers to their deaths. Did it make any difference when those soldiers were family? Loved ones? Ash kept going over in her mind the fact that Shepard had been willing to sacrifice Liara for the greater good. It had been the only decision the Commander could have made. The fate of the Galaxy over the life of one individual.

Ash drew in a discreet breath before setting her mouth into a tight, determined line. She had no idea how the hell a stupid grunt had ended up in such a position of leadership, but she owed it to Shepard not to screw it up.

_{Err…ma'am,}_ Joker's voice interrupted her resolute sense of purpose. _{I know you're less than a minute out from the drop, but you might want to abort. We've finally made contact with the vessels orbiting Chasca…and you're not going to believe this, but they're friendlies.}_

The calm that Ash had finally found was stripped away almost instantly. "What the…you're right, I don't believe it."

_{Believe it. We're close enough for visual ID. They're all SA frigates from the First Fleet, under the command of a Captain…ahhhh…Alves. I've got an open comm line confirming that the ground is secure. Do you want me to patch you through?}_

"No!" Ash snapped – trying to suppress the fears that starting bubbling back to the surface – _Hang in there, Sarah_. "Just get the _Normandy_ on the damn ground."

The forty-five minutes that passed between the initial reveal and the _Normandy_ returning to Chasca's surface passed by with almost indeterminable sluggishness. Ash's adrenaline reserves remained untapped, but they did not dissipate despite the absence of combat. Her entire body hummed with nervous energy as she disembarked.

At the sight of her fellow Captain in the distance, it took an immense effort on her part to appear at least partially composed.

Ash had only had the privilege of meeting Alves once. The awkwardness of that meeting had been more than enough to dissuade her from actively seeking out the woman ever again. The memory returned – vividly – at the moment that Alves delivered a full-lipped smile in Ash's direction. While the smile didn't have the same effect that it once did, Ash was all too painfully aware of her own dishevelled appearance. Not even her regulation bun could conceal the fact that her hair was still purple.

"Captain Williams, you have no idea how delighted I am to see the _Normandy_ ," Alves said as she extended her hand.

"It looks as though you've done just fine without us," Ash remarked, taking Alves' hand in a deep, firm grip.

"Nevertheless-" Alves did not retreat from the handshake as she stared at Ash, smile fixed firmly in place "-the _Normandy_ has been missed. Although I must say that you look as though you've been putting yourself and the crew through their paces."

"Well, we haven't been sitting around scratching our asses," Ash replied, extricating her hand from the handshake and folding both hands behind her back to keep from punching Alves across her smug mouth. "The rest of the Galaxy isn't going to take care of itself, but that's unimportant. What's the sitrep?"

Alves arched an eyebrow, but she obliged. "There were two unmarked vessels in orbit when my squadron arrived. We managed to destroy one while the other fled."

"You elected not to pursue?"

"My priority was with the colonists…and the _Granicus_ suffered significant damage. She's currently dead in the water." Alves kept her tone polite. "Unfortunately, we were too late to save most of the colonists-"

Inwardly Ash felt as though someone had kicked her in the stomach, outwardly she maintained a composed façade.

"-They were taken by slavers. It is a regrettable turn of events, but you know as well as I, that we don't have the resources to pursue them. Even if they have our people," Alves continued, her voice heavy with something that sounded like regret. "I am sorry, Captain Williams, I…know that your sister was posted here."

Ash responded with a taut nod – it was all the reaction that Alves was going to get out of her. She didn't trust the other Captain, not as far as she could throw the bitch. With feigned nonchalance, Ash swept her gaze over Chasca's ruined landscape and resisted the urge to tap out an impatient staccato with her boot.

"What's our next move?" Although framing it as a question, Ash wasn't waiting for Alves' permission. She was eager to be out from beneath the other woman's slightly predatory gaze. "Search and rescue?"

Alves nodded. "As futile as it might feel, but even if we save one life it will feel like a small victory."

_Spare the sentiment,_ Ash thought, irritated that of all the captains in the Alliance it had to be Alves that had shown up on Chasca. For a moment Ash wondered whether this was a coincidence, but the inkling disappeared quickly in the face of her fears for Sarah. Petty suspicions could wait. She watched Alves walk away for a moment, before turning her attention back to the settlement. Ash had no idea where to start, nor did she know what she expected to find. She knew exactly what she hoped for - to find Sarah alive, holed up somewhere and relieved as hell to see her big sister.

In all likelihood Sarah had been taken and Ash would be faced with the very real prospect of having to walk away from her promise to Shepard. There was no way in hell that she was leaving Sarah to the mercy of slavers, not even if she had to search every cesspit in the Galaxy.

"I don't know why, but I really don't like that woman."

Ash looked over her shoulder as Traynor joined her. "Miranda warned me about her once," she spoke softly, lingering over the syllables of her lover's name like a caress. "Funny thing was, she actually sounded scared of her."

Traynor was silent for a few moments. Ash knew she ought to be moving, but a part of her didn't want to know what had happened to Sarah. Eventually she heard rather than felt Traynor place a gloved hand on her shoulder.

"Are you…alright?"

An honest reply was on the tip of Ash's tongue, but the urge disappeared quickly. "I'm fine, Chief. Actually, kind of relieved that someone else did the shooting for once." As she said it, Ash couldn't bring herself to look at Traynor. She could already see the disbelief on the younger woman's face. "Let's move out."

* * *

 

It was infuriating to be so close to the surface of a planet for the first time in her life and not be able to touch or even smell it. Myke tried to keep a scowl from forming on her face. The _Normandy's_ doctor had been nothing but kind to her and she had no desire to come across as ungrateful. However, there was an entire planet out there. With fresh air, dirt, and actual trees. Okay, the trees looked kind of small and stubby compared to the ones in Myke's imagination, but they were still there.

Instead she had to stand with her face pressed firmly against a porthole, imagining how the air _might_ smell outside.

_Burnt probably,_ she thought sadly. The excitement she felt was well and truly tempered by the blackened remnants of buildings that she could see. Thick columns of smoke continued to streamed skywards. All Myke could do was stand and watch the Alliance soldiers as they sifted through the rubble in their search for survivors.

Minutes went by before Myke realised that her hands were clenched into tight fists, to the point where her fingernails were digging into her palm. She desperately wanted to be out there, doing something useful. Behind her, she could hear Dr Chakwas moving equipment. She didn't bother turning around, there were no patients to help yet.

"Mycea? Are you coming with me, or are you content to stand there and watch?"

Myke whirled around to find Chakwas looking at her with an expectant expression and field medkits in both hands.

"You're asking me if I want to go outside?" Myke couldn't help but gape.

Chakwas looked slightly impatient. "Not if you're going to turn into a wool-headed fool I'm not, but yes."

Myke had no idea what 'wool-headed' meant, but when combined with 'fool' she didn't expect that it was anything good. In fact, she was still trying to get her head around the strange manner in which the doctor spoke in general. She fixed what she hoped was an intelligent expression on her face and nodded. Perhaps Dr Chakwas would see past the gleam of excitement in her eyes and the way in which she bounced on the balls of her feet.

The outside world defied description. Myke wondered whether it had something to do with her limited vocabulary, or if it was simply too much for her senses to process at once. Dirt crunched beneath her feet as she stepped down from the landing ramp. She paused for a moment, taking in Chasca's strange natural light. A slight breeze hit her face, carrying with it any number of unidentifiable scents. Overriding everything else was the one that Myke knew all too well – the scent of war.

"Will you be alright?" Chakwas asked gently.

Taken back slightly by the doctor's consideration, Myke simply nodded. She then realised that Chakwas must have interpreted her stunned expression as a result of seeing Chasca burning. In reality, although she felt for the colonists, what she was seeing did not compare to the horrors that she had witnessed during Cerberus' occupation of Omega. And there had been no breeze on Omega to carry away the stench.

"I'm fine," Myke replied in a resolute voice. She gripped the medkit in her hand. "Where do we start?"

_{Dr Chakwas! It's an emergency. Please respond!}_

Anything Chakwas might have been about to say was interrupted by a panicked, choked voice over the open comms channel. Myke recognised Sam's voice instantly. Her breath caught at the sheer terror she recognised in the voice. It was so unlike the Sam that she knew.

"I'm here. Go ahead, Chief," Chakwas replied calmly.

_{I need you to rendezvous at my…our coordinates. I think…Fuck!}_ Sam replied in a panic, completely forgetting protocol. _{I don't know what to do. She's dead…and Ash – I mean Captain Williams…she's…I don't know what to do!}_

_"_ Calm down, Traynor. We're close."

Myke itched to be running already. The only problem was, she had no idea where to go. "Please tell me we're starting there?"

Chakwas nodded resolutely. "We're starting there."

* * *

 

With trembling fingers, Sam dragged her helmet from her head. Her knees followed it to the ground, hitting hard before she collapsed onto her haunches. The deep breaths that she desperately needed remained trapped in her throat. Spots clouded her vision before she managed to gulp in any air at all. It came in shuddering gasps, alternating with choked sobs. The reminder to pull herself together was on a loop in her head, but she couldn't summon the courage to re-enter the ruined building. There were no words that she could offer. Nothing that she could physically do other than stand and watch helplessly.

Sarah William's chalk white face was etched behind Sam's eyes. Crazily beautiful, even in death. Ash's anguished scream played on repeat in her head. The face and the scream. As Sam hunched over in the dirt, she could escape neither. Her own response had seemed pathetically inadequate.

_"Ash…I-I…I'm so sorry."_ Sam had regretted the words even before they left her lips. Yet they had emerged regardless.

_Normandy's_ Captain hadn't responded. Not until Sam had dared to step forward and place a hand on her friend's shoulder. Ash's entire body had been shaking uncontrollably. Sam's heart had already shattered into a million pieces. She had no idea how she was going to pick the pieces up.

_"Get the fuck out!"_ Ash had yelled in a terrible voice that was utterly broken and filled with rage. " _Fuck off!"_

It took several minutes for Sam to get herself under control, enough at least to be ashamed of the panicked call she'd put through to Chakwas. She picked herself up out of the dirt and looked towards the ruined building. There were no sounds emanating from within. Nothing other than an eerie silence. While Sam didn't want to disturb Ashley's grief, she couldn't help but be desperately worried. Instead Sam scanned her surrounds, hoping that Chakwas wasn't far away.

_What the hell is she going to do?_ Sam thought hopelessly. _Sarah's dead. Chakwas isn't a fucking miracle worker._

_{Chief? Are you there?}_ It was Grenier, _Normandy's_ XO.

"Here, sir," Sam replied in a hollow voice. "Go ahead."

_{Have you seen the Captain?}_ Grenier sounded urgent. { _I've been hailing her for five minutes without response.}_

Sam chewed her lip. "I'm with the Captain. We've got a situation-"

{ _There's a situation up here, Chief!}_ Grenier interrupted in a curt voice. _{We've got incoming. The frigates in orbit have engaged with a hostile force. If the_ Normandy _stays down here, we're a sitting duck. If you've got Captain Williams within earshot, tell her we need to respond. Understood?}_

"Five by, sir," Sam replied. An overwhelming sense of dread settled in her gut at the thought of approaching Ashley. "We'll get back to-"

A harsh order cut Sam off.

"XO, get that fucking ship in the air!"

She spun around to see Ashley emerge from the building. At first Sam was stunned to find Ashley perfectly composed, especially after her earlier outburst. The Captain's face was schooled into a mask of purpose, rifle already in her hands. However, Sam knew her friend well enough to see past the façade. Despite the absence of tear tracks on her cheeks, there were dark red rims around Ashley's eyes - and the eyes themselves were as hard as glass. Sam realised that Ashley was operating only on a basic level, fuelled by an indescribable rage. It was no state of mind to be heading into combat.

"Ma'am…" Sam hesitated. She had no desire to be on the receiving end of another outburst, yet she cared about Ashley as more than just a CO. "Ashley, you need to get back to the _Normandy_. Captain Alves can oversee the ground defences."

Sam was spared Ashley's answer by the sudden and violent impact of barrage of rockets. She was forced to throw herself to the ground as their position was enveloped in a haze of dust and heat. As she covered her head with her hands, she cursed herself for being an idiot and dropping her helmet. Somehow she gathered her thoughts into something resembling coherence. Her first action was to reach out for her helmet, finding it only a few feet away. She jammed in on her head, ignoring the layer of dust covering the visor. As she reached for the SMG at her side, she heard the unmistakable sound of a shuttle passing overheard, quickly joined by several more. None of which carried Alliance markings.

Coughing and spluttering, and certainly not feeling remotely like a marine, Sam searched her surrounds. Sam expected to see Ashley in the dirt nearby, but she found herself alone. It was only when she heard the rapid retort of a Valkyrie assault rifle that she realised Ashley was already moving, responding to the threat. Sam squinted ahead. Ashley moved purposefully through the heart of the continuing barrage – without a helmet, without an apparent care as she walked down the middle of the street.

Sam wanted nothing more than to crawl under the most solid cover she could find and not move, but somehow she managed to drag herself to her feet. _This is a really bad idea,_ Sam thought as she propelled herself forward. She clenched her teeth, fully expecting at any moment to be ripped to shreds by a direct hit. She consoled herself with the fact that, if that came to pass, she would feel very little.

Her heart was in her mouth as she followed Ashley, cursing the other woman under her breath for dragging her well out of her comfort zone. Figures moved all around them in the haze. It took Sam an irrationally long time to realise that they were shooting at her – or rather at Ashley. The Captain made for an impressive target, although it was apparent that very little could touch her. Even as Sam moved forward, she was struck by the manner in which Ashley moved. Constantly firing - not even pausing to ram a fresh thermal clip into her Valkyrie or at the shots that struck her shields.

Only seconds had passed since she'd picked herself up off the ground, but it felt as though she'd been running for hours. _This is not me,_ Sam thought to herself, still struggling to accept the reality of what she was doing, charging into the midst of a combat zone as though she was some gung-ho marine as opposed to the techie she actually was. Her fear afforded her some measure of clarity. Every shape that moved drew her gaze. The Locust burst into life in her hand, almost of its own accord, sending incendiary rounds in the direction of one fast moving figure. Even as Sam saw a weapon being trained on her, she cast overload. She had no time to admire her handiwork before she focused on the next threats.

Even with her limited combat experience, Sam knew that they needed to move into cover. Ashley's current path was nothing short of suicidal. Sam refused to believe that was what the Captain wanted. Losing Sarah was tragic, but there was still Abby and Lynn to consider. Not to mention Miranda Lawson. Ashley wasn't thinking clearly – if at all.

"We need to move!" Sam yelled, knowing most of her voice would be drowned out. "We stay here we're dead!"

Ash didn't even spare her a glance, moving forward without pause.

As Sam scrambled to catch up with Ash, she yelped as a figure suddenly launched forward from a building to her left, omni-blade extended. She managed to turn her body just in time, the blade glancing off her shields. When she tried to bring her Locust up to fire, Sam wasn't fast enough to get in a shot before the next strike. It was a direct thrust, piercing her shields instantly and carrying forward into her armour. Panicking, Sam wrenched her entire body to one side, jerking her assailant off balance even as she felt a sharp sting in her left flank. She responded with the first thing that popped into her mind – incinerate. At close range the power arced straight from her omni-tool and into his body. The smell of burnt flesh was accompanied by a gut-wrenching scream as he stumbled backwards. Sam followed up with overload, instantly causing the burning plasma to detonate. One blink later she found the front of her armour covered in what remained of her attacker – little chunks of still smoking flesh.

Sam stood in mute shock even as a second figure rushed forward. She stumbled, her boot catching on an unseen piece of debris, Locust falling from her hand. As she tumbled backwards an omni-blade burst through the face of the man above her. Sam hit hard, blinking to find Ash standing above her. The Captain's face was a bloodied, expressionless mess.

"Ash?"

Ash turned around. For a moment Sam thought that Ash was going to leave her sitting in the dirt. However Ash retrieved Sam's fallen Locust and handed it to her.

"You're going to need this, Chief."

Ash then grabbed her beneath the arm and hauled her to her feet. Sam's head swam uncomfortably, but somehow she managed to remain upright.

"Are you good to go?"

Sam managed something that resembled a nod in response to Ashley's question.

"Well stay close then."

"Aye, aye, ma'am- "

Sam heard something whistling through the air, followed by a dull thud. Her answer was cut short as her world dissolved in an unholy conflagration. Heat like nothing she'd ever felt. It felt as though some giant hand had suddenly picked her up and was tossing her through the air like a ragdoll.

The last thing that Sam remembered was Ashley throwing herself in front of her.

Then there was pain, and everything faded to black.

* * *

 

Over the past two hours Myke had come to the unequivocal realisation that she never wanted to be in a combat zone ever again. Even if she lived another 800 years. It wasn't simply a case of being scared, but rather everything about the whole sad mess. The noise, the blood, and the death. Especially the death.

Myke stared down at her hands. They were covered in the blood of some nameless human she'd tried to save. Her supplies of medigel had long since been exhausted and she'd lost Dr Chakwas somewhere in the chaos. She'd dragged the marine out of the field of fire and into a hole, but her hands on his wound had done little other than prolong the inevitable. He'd died, choking and crying for his mother. She was still sitting next to his body in the hole, unable to do anything other than meet his lifeless gaze. He stared back, accusing her of cowardice. Myke shook her head. She darted forward and closed his eyes with a gentle swipe of her fingers before flopping back against the side of her hole. Her fingers were trembling so she jammed them beneath her arms, hugging herself tightly.

With the fighting dying down, Myke's thoughts turned back to Sam. Somehow she'd managed to push her fears for her lover to the back of her mind during the worst of it. She had to, otherwise she would not have been able to function. Now those fears returned. It was the final impetus she needed to pick herself out of the hole.

Myke scanned the horizon. Sam was out there somewhere and she was determined to find her. Warnings were already going off in the sensible part of her brain, advising her to find Dr Chakwas instead, or stay put until the _Normandy_ returned. Myke wasn't Alliance. No one had questioned her presence whilst she was working alongside the doctor. Running around on her own, a lone asari wearing a cast-off N7 hoodie, was another matter altogether.

Thinking sensibly had never been Myke's strong suit.

Myke found the battlefield oddly deserted as she moved, trying to keep to cover whilst at the same time trying not to look as though she was a threat. The Alliance had suffered heavy casualties, that much she knew, but it looked as though the attacking force had been wiped out to a man. She passed the blackened bodies of humans, batarians, turians. It was entirely senseless.

With a heavy heart, Myke had to ask herself whether it would have been better to remain on Omega. She had wanted to be a part of Sam's world but now, regardless of the way she felt about the human, Myke knew she didn't belong here. Her world was small and intimate. Most of all, it made sense.

_Always with the stupid, rash decisions, Kasos_ , Myke thought bitterly.

She was still berating herself when she was startled by a sudden flash. It whipped past her ear and slammed into the side of a prefab with a dull thunk. When her brain connected with the fact that someone had fired at her, Myke threw herself to the ground.

"Hey, don't shoot. I'm with the _Normandy_!"

"Bullshit. You look like a fucking squid to me," came the terse reply.

Myke waited for the follow up attack - swift footsteps rushing in on her position, then the oblivion of death. Half a minute passed and nothing happened.

"Have you decided against shooting me?" Myke dared to ask.

"Nope, just waiting for you to show your head."

Myke frowned. It was then that she recognised the edge to the man's voice for what it was – pain. He wasn't coming after her because he couldn't move for some reason. As she often did when she was about to do something stupid, Myke drew in a deep breath.

She cautiously lifted her arms above her head. "You sound like you need help. How about you don't shoot me, and I see what I can do to help you?"

"What's to stop you from putting one between my eyes, squid?"

"Because I don't have a damn gun!" Myke replied through gritted teeth. "And if you don't stop calling me that, I'll crawl away and forget I ever laid eyes on you."

There was another lengthy pause. All of Myke's instincts were telling her to make good on her threat. The guy didn't deserve her help in the first place. Every minute she wasted, was another minute she could have spent looking for Sam.

"Fine," he replied eventually. "What have I got to lose?"

Still telling herself it was all a bad idea, Myke moved into a crouch and scanned her surrounds. At any moment she expected to be shot for her trouble. She picked out her potential patient. The marine was leaning against some fallen debris. His rifle was propped up awkwardly on a rock, trained in Myke's direction.

"I don't work well at gunpoint," Myke said in a careful voice.

The marine's face was a ghastly white. Although Myke couldn't see any obvious injuries, the dirt beneath his body was stained red with blood. He regarded her through glazed eyes for a moment, before he let go of the rifle, pushing it to one side.

Myke scrambled forward. He was older than most humans she had met - his skin was heavily lined and his was hair a steely grey colour. She went to work without a word, ascertaining his injuries. It didn't require any medical knowledge to see that his armour was punctured in several places – including a piece of debris that had penetrated from his back, through to his chest. He was still bleeding profusely.

"I need to find some gel, or you're going to bleed out," Myke announced bluntly. "Stay put."

"Our corpsman went down just over there," the marine jerked his chin off to the left.

Sure enough, Myke found a well-stocked kit still tucked beneath the body of a dead marine. She prised it out and returned to her patient. He continued to regard her through wary eyes, still unconvinced of her good intentions despite the fact that she was kneeling at his side, tearing open the gel.

"Whose blood is on your hands?"

Myke looked up for a moment and met his tired gaze before resuming her work. She shook her head. "Another marine. I tried but I couldn't help him."

Silence descended again. The gel seemed to help. It sealed the wounds. Myke knew she should signal for help, but she didn't want to risk another trigger-happy marine firing at her.

"I've never seen a sq…one of your kind up close," he commented in a whisper. "You're not as scary as I thought."

Myke snorted. "Scary? Asari? Of course not-" She frowned and thought of someone like Aria T'Loak. "Okay, maybe some of us are, but most of us are just like me - normal." Myke sat back on her haunches, anxiety starting to creep into her thoughts. "I've done what I can but I can't risk moving you. I'll send help when I find it."

"You've done enough. Go on, you've obviously got somewhere to be," he jerked his head, managing a small smile. "Sorry for being an asshole.

Myke accepted the apology with a nod. "I'm looking for Captain Williams and her team. Have you seen her?"

"Yeah, before the shooting started. Heading off to the north-west."

With her scavenged medkit tucked under her arm, Myke pushed on. While there were still shouts and the odd gunshot in the distance, an eerie silence had largely settled over the battlefield. Having spent her entire life in space, Myke realised that she didn't find Chasca's perpetual twilight overly strange. There was more than enough light to navigate by. The aspect she found most difficult was the sky stretching overhead. She was used to having a ceiling, or the bedrock of Omega's asteroid. It felt unnerving to have nothing above her other than the apparently endless purple sky.

Myke supposed she might have found it pretty at a different time, but for the present she kept her eyes focused. Perhaps there would be time later to stare up at it. _Hopefully whilst lying next to Sam_ , Myke mused, allowing herself a small smile. Although her fears for Sam's safety were still very much present, Myke was reassured by the fact that she'd seen Sam leave the _Normandy_ with Captain Williams. And anyone that was that scary was definitely someone you wanted to have at your side during a firefight.

Still when all of this was over and done with, Myke still fully expected to end up in all kinds of trouble for stowing away. She was convinced that the only thing keeping her safe from punishment was the fact that there were more pressing matters to attend to. _And Dr Chakwas is going to kick my ass for getting lost,_ Myke mused, remembering the doctor's strict instructions to stay close. _Stick to her like glue she said. Funny phrase-_

At first Myke thought nothing of seeing the boots of yet another body of a marine. This one was partially buried by debris, armour blackened. The hand still clutched a familiar looking rifle. It wasn't until Myke saw the dark hair and curve of a pale cheek that she realised exactly why it was familiar.

"Captain Williams!" The words left Myke's lips as she scrambled forward, throwing herself down. Without stopping to think, she began dragging the debris away, heavy as it was, until it was clear.

Further words died on her lips as she stared at _Normandy's_ Captain. Ashley lay on her front, head turned slightly as though merely lying on a pillow. The marine's eyes were heavily lidded, but still open, her lips parted as though she was about to say something. However, even before she pressed her fingers against Ashley's neck, Myke knew that the word would never emerge.

Her touch provided only confirmation. Ashley was dead. Myke jerked her hand back. She sat on her haunches, unable to draw her gaze away despite wanting to look anywhere else. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes.

The worst thing was, the tears and the pain in the pit of her stomach weren't as a result of Ashley. They were for Sam. If Ashley was dead, what did that mean for Sam?

"Get away from her, you filthy squid!"

Myke spun around in fright, managing only to fall over onto her back. As she scrambled backwards, she found herself staring directly into the barrel of a pistol. At the other end of the pistol Myke found another marine. This one would have been beautiful, save for the fact that her face was contorted into a mask of fury that left Myke's blood cold.

"Don't shoot! I just found her!" Myke protested, not caring how pathetic her voice sounded. The tears that had threatened to fall were now streaming down her cheeks. "Please."

The woman surged forward. Myke raised an arm in defence but it was futile. She cried out as she was struck across the temple with the butt of the pistol.

"Shut up! What the hell did you do to Captain Williams?"

"Nothing! I found her like this," Myke repeated, trying to force the panic from her voice. She felt the warmth of blood flowing down her cheek.

Whilst keeping her pistol trained on Myke, the marine stepped forward and examined Ashley's body for herself, feeling for a pulse. Myke watched out of the corner of her eye, keeping her hands in plain sight.

"Fuck!" the woman hissed loudly, ramming her fist into the ground. "God-fucking damn you, Williams, you absolute cunt! This was _not_ supposed to happen."

"I'm with the _Normandy_. I was working with Dr Chakwas," Myke tried to explain. "We were separated and I came to look for-"

"Shut the hell up, you lying piece of filth! Look at this fucking mess! At least I can have the satisfaction of pulling a bullet in the middle of your ugly face."

Only one word entered Myke's head. _Shit._

A shot rang out. Myke watched as the woman who had been about to shoot her went sprawling backwards, landing heavily on the ground. As Myke scrambled into a crouch, the marine did not move.

"Myke!"

Myke's head jerked around. "Sam?"

She found Sam Traynor, pistol in hand, unsteadily picking herself up from the ground. Much like Ashley, Sam was an absolute mess - covered from helmet to boot in a mixture of dirt and blood. However unlike Ashley, Sam was very much alive. Myke's joy at seeing Sam was tempered by Ashley's body. She lurched to her feet, both with the intention of helping Sam and keeping her from seeing Ashley.

"Sam!" Myke blocked Sam's path, encompassing her in a gentle embrace. She inhaled gratefully. Sam smelled of burning flesh, blood and sweat. Myke suddenly found herself unable to stop crying. She drew back, cupped Sam's cheeks. "You're alive."

Sam managed a nod in response. Her usually rich skin was a sickly colour. Despite Myke's efforts, Sam moved out from Myke's hold. Sam couldn't fail to notice the body lying nearby.

"Oh god," Sam whispered in disbelief. Her gaze went to Myke, lip trembling. "Is she..."

As Sam's voice trailed off, Myke could only offer up a weak nod. She wanted to be able to do something to fix everything – especially the devastated expression on Sam's face. Sam stumbled forward, as though about to drop to her knees, but she caught herself. Her gaze fixed on the second body.

"I shot, Alves." Sam looked at the pistol in her hand as though seeing it for the first time. She turned to look at Myke, shaking her head. "She was going to kill you…so I shot her. I shot another marine."

"What does that mean?" Myke asked, watching the play of emotions across Sam's face.

Their gazes met. Sam shook her head slowly. "I don't know…but nothing good. Oh, Ash…"

Movement in the distance drew Myke's attention. A squad of Alliance soldiers were approaching in a staggered formation. Myke didn't recognise any of them as faces she'd seen on the _Normandy_. Sam had resumed staring at Ashley's body, oblivious to anyone or anything outside of her limited view.

_Nothing good_ , Myke thought, focusing on the marines. The trouble was, Sam represented everything that _was_ good. Myke's survival instincts kicked in. There was no way that she was prepared to let any harm come to Sam. Even if it meant doing something that Sam couldn't agree with. She pulled her hood up over her crests.

Without saying a word, Myke grabbed Sam's elbow in an unwavering grip. As casually as possible, she started leading the young woman away from the two bodies. Predictably, Sam dug her heels in, fighting to stay put.

"They'll kill you!" Myke hissed vehemently. "We need to get out of here!"

"I can't just-"

"Sam!" Myke snapped, continuing to half-drag, half-push the reluctant young human down the street. At any moment she expected to hear shouts and the sounds of pursuit. "I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but I know how to stay alive. Trust me, we need to keep walking."

The composure in her own voice surprised Myke. It didn't reflect the roiling current of emotions beneath the surface. First and foremost she was terrified – for both herself and Sam, but also of the unknown. There was no plan beyond walking away. For once in her life, she needed to be someone who could take charge and make decisions – even if those decisions made no sense. Their immediate concern was to keep walking, one foot after the other.

Myke eventually risked a glance over her shoulder. The marines were running towards the bodies. While several paused, one noticed the pair leaving the scene. She heard a shout that might have been an order to stop. That was the last thing she was going to do.

"Run!" Myke propelled Sam between two buildings, out of the line of sight. "Just keep running!"

_That's the extent of your brilliant plan, Kasos? Keep running?_ Myke thought as her breath came in lumbering gasps. One thing was clear, she was desperately unfit. For a moment she wondered whether talking to the marines could have made a difference, then she remembered the tone of the female marine's voice. Myke had plenty of experience of being on the receiving end of aversion – Aria was her father after all - but she'd never felt such overt hatred. It scared her.

"Kasos!"

Myke had never been happier to hear a familiar voice in her life. She found Dr Chakwas running towards her, flanked by three marines – all of whom Myke recognised as being _Normandy_ crew. Despite the murderous expression on the doctor's face, Myke couldn't help but utter a relieved sigh at the sight of someone who possessed an iota of good sense.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Chakwas demanded as she approached. "I told you to stay with me. This is a warzone, not a playground!"

Chakwas stopped, her anger giving way as she assessed the situation. Myke was still trying to catch her breath while Sam looked as though she was on the verge of throwing up.

"What happened?" Chakwas asked slowly. "Where is Captain Williams?"

"She's dead," Myke replied bluntly, looking over her shoulder. "And we have to move."

"What?" Chakwas shook her head. She reached out and placed her hand on Sam's shoulder. "Chief, what happened?"

"It's true," Sam mumbled, refusing to look at anywhere other than the ground. "Ashley's dead…and I shot Captain Alves. They're going to court-martial me…or shoot me on the spot."

"Hey," Myke said as she grabbed Sam, forcing her lover to look at her. "I don't know what the first thing you said even is, but it's not going to happen and no one is going to shoot you." Myke looked desperately towards Chakwas. "Doctor? No one's going to shoot Sam, right?"

"Stop! Weapons down!"

The _Normandy_ crewmembers all turned to face the threat. Five Alliance marines were advancing fifty yards away, weapons raised in their direction. Myke instinctively stepped in front of Sam, dragging the young woman behind her even though her own bulk was hardly sufficient.

Chakwas stepped forward, hands on her hips. "You're addressing a Major, corporal. So I'd point those rifles somewhere else or you'll find yourself up on a charge faster than you can blink."

The corporal lowered his weapon. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but the Chief is to be taken into custody, pending charges of shooting to kill an officer of the Alliance Navy. That squid was involved too."

"Negative," Chakwas replied in an icy voice. "The Chief and our _asari_ friend will be returning to the _Normandy_. Any charges can be discussed through the proper channels."

"No can do, ma'am. Hand her over or we'll be forced to open fire."

"Oh hell," Chakwas muttered, almost under her breath.

Myke found it difficult to remember a time when she'd been in a worse mess. She dragged up memories from the Cerberus occupation and came up blank. Even facing her father was preferable to the situation in which she now found herself. The worst thing about it was that she wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place. Now she was going to die in a hail of gunfire, and Sam along with her. Just when her life had been starting to get exciting.

It was only when the blonde-haired marine to her right made a sudden movement that Myke realised she had missed some imperceptible signals. The marine cast something to the ground. In an instant their surrounds were swallowed by a thick, orange smoke. Someone seized Myke's wrist, almost yanking it free from her arm. Myke didn't protest, forcing her legs to move as the gunfire commenced. The marine, Myke didn't know his name, eventually let go but not before making sure she was following.

"Petrova, Campbell - cover fire!" Chakwas yelled. "Try not to actually hit those morons.”

"They're trying to hit us, ma'am!" Petrova snapped.

“Fleeting, we need an LZ." Chakwas brought up her omni-tool. "This is Chakwas to the _Normandy_. _Normandy_ come in?"

_{Reading you loud and clear, Major.}_ It was Grenier. _{What the hell's going on down there, ma'am? We lost contact with Captain Williams over an hour ago. Everything's Fubar-}_

"Cut the chatter, XO. We need an emergency evac five minutes ago."

_{Ma'am?}_

"Evac first, explanations later!"

_{Okay, we're coming up on your position now. Don't tell me the LZ's still hot?}_

Myke followed Chakwas and Sam into cover, already feeling as though the rattle of weapons fire was taking place inside her head. Although she felt like curling into a tight ball, she forced a brave expression onto her face as she took Sam's hand in her own. She gripped Sam's hand as tightly as she dared.

Chakwas stared at them both. Even _Normandy's_ doctor looked slightly shell-shocked. "I don't know what mess you girls have gotten yourselves into, but I'll be damned before I hand you over to anyone without question."

Before long, the hum of the _Normandy's_ thrusters sounded in the distance, growing closer. Myke found herself running again, Sam's hand still encased tightly in her own. Running for her life, being chased by a hail of gunfire wasn't exactly how she had pictured spending her first day on the ground. When her boots hit the artificial solidity of _Normandy's_ landing ramp, Myke felt almost a grateful sense of relief.

_Normandy's_ XO was there to meet their group, a confused expression on his face. "Major? I'm getting orders for the _Normandy_ to stand down from the rest of the squadron. And something about Traynor shooting Captain Alves. What the hell happened down there?"

Sam pushed past her way past Myke. "Sir...you need to hand me over-"

"No way!" The words left Myke's lips before she even formed a coherent thought. She reached out for Sam, wrapping an arm around her waist to stop her taking another step.

"Myke, you've got to let me do this," Sam said with a firm shake of her head, effortlessly twisting free from Myke's hold.

Grenier held up his hands, silencing both of them. He turned to Chakwas with a helpless expression on his face. "Major? Where is Captain Williams?"

"Williams is dead," Chakwas replied in a tight voice. "The command is yours, LC. The decision is yours."

"Ash is…" Grenier looked shell-shocked, stumbling backwards as though he'd been physically hit.

Although spoken quietly, the doctor's words seemed to echo throughout the shuttle bay. Myke watched the crew's faces as they tried to digest the announcement. A few were shaking their heads as though it couldn't possibly be true. Lieutenant Cortez had immediately dropped to one knee on the deck, hand over his eyes. Despite not being a part of the crew, or having known Ashley Williams well at all, Myke felt their pain. She felt it through Sam, and she felt it through the reactions of the crew. The Captain had meant something to all of them.

Her detachment however was enough to bring her back to their present situation. The _Normandy_ was held in position just above Chasca's surface, landing ramp still deployed. Myke could clearly see the marines still on the ground, surrounding the ship, weapons at the ready.

"Um, whatever you're going to do-" Her voice trembled slightly, made worse by the fact that most of the group turned to look at her. "-you need to do it now."

The XO turned his attention away from Myke, back to Dr Chakwas. "Major, I have no idea what I'm doing or why, but I'm on the cusp of disobeying a direct order. I need you to tell me I'm making the right decision."

Chakwas looked pained. "I don't know if there is a right decision here. We leave and we're all facing a one-way ticket out of the SA."

"Or we stay and-" Grenier looked towards Sam.

"I'm not handing over the Chief," Chakwas interrupted firmly. "You asked for my advice? My instincts are telling me that something's not right here. We need to leave."

In that moment Myke could have hugged Chakwas. She watched the play of emotions across the man's face. She barely knew Grenier at all and yet Sam's fate rested entirely in his hands.

"Joker? Get us out of here!" Grenier ordered.

_{Err, a destination would be helpful,} the_ pilot replied.

Grenier closed his eyes for a moment. "Omega. Take us back to Omega."

* * *

 

Even as the _Normandy's_ landing ramp closed and Sam knew that they were actually leaving Chasca, the tension did not leave her body. She was exhausted, she hurt everywhere, and all she wanted to do was crawl into a dark place somewhere, preferably with Myke's arms wrapped around her. She met her lover's gaze for a moment, Myke started towards her but Sam held up her hand. There was one awful job to do before she could give into the pain.

Sam approached Leon Grenier. _Normandy's_ XO still wore an expression of incredulity, as though he wasn't sure whether any of the events he had just witnessed had actually taken place. He sensed Sam walking towards him and looked up to meet her gaze. Sam was suddenly struck by how young Grenier actually was. His shoulders sagged with the weight of what he'd just done.

"Leon…"

He shook his head. "You don't need to say anything, Sam. I trust you…I trust Chakwas. I don't trust what the Alliance has become." He bit his lip for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath before continuing. "Did you find Sarah?"

Sam nodded mutely. The expression on her face must have said everything as Grenier's composure crumpled for a moment. His eyes watered before he managed to regain control with a deep breath.

"What happened?"

"It was quick," Sam replied. The lie was the only mercy she could offer. "She wouldn't have felt a thing."

"And Ash?"

Sam exhaled shakily. "I don't remember much, but I think she saved my life."

"How…" Grenier's whisper trailed off. He started shaking his head again. "How did everything go so wrong?"

"The Alliance," Sam said. Although she wasn't about to gloss over her role in the mess – she'd willingly pulled the trigger on Alves – she had spoken to Shepard, heard the antagonism in the former Commander's voice when she mentioned the Alliance. Now Sam had seen first-hand the calibre of people who were rising through the ranks. "It's rotten at the core. I don't know how…but I know it's not the organisation we joined, Leon. When we get back to Omega she'll tell you everything."

"She?" Grenier frowned. "Who are you talking about, Sam?"

"I can't tell you yet…just trust me for now," Sam pleaded. "Ashley knew everything, she would have made the same decision."

He offered up a minute nod in reply, but Sam could tell that Grenier didn't understand. They parted without a further word, neither interested in further conversation. Without looking at anyone, even Myke, Sam started walking. Her path took her to the armoury and the scene of her conversation with Ashley that morning over the weapons bench.

She reached out and laid her hand on the table where James Vega had spent so many hours, where Ash had lovingly obsessed over her Black Widow. Sam felt devastated enough to cry, but the tears wouldn't come.

A shadow fell over the bench. Sam didn't need to look up to know it was Myke.

"Please don't say you're sorry," Sam pre-empted what she thought Myke might say. "Nothing that happened today was your fault."

Silence descended between the two of them. Myke kept a respectful distance, remaining on the opposite side of the bench, but she did reach across and touch Sam's hand. When Myke went to withdraw the touch, Sam responded, latching on and holding tight.

"Will you let Dr Chakwas take a look at you?" Myke suggested quietly.

The difficulty was, Sam didn't want the physical pain to go away.

"I just left her body there," Sam whispered, shaking her head repeatedly. "She was Captain, my friend...and I just left her body fucking lying there as though she was nothing."

* * *

 

"Ma'am? Captain Alves?"

At the back of her mind, Alves was aware that someone was trying to get her attention. However, she was far too preoccupied with her own thoughts, trying to think through her blinding headache.

Not since Torfan had she been in charge of such a complete fuck up. Firstly, she hadn't banked on that stupid kid evading the slavers. Alves was no stranger to blood on her hands, but this kill had been different. Sarah Williams hadn't been another faceless Batarian, but rather a marine and a veteran. Now she was another casualty in the ongoing struggle. One that would haunt her for a long time to come.

That was a personal matter that she would have to deal with. Irrelevant in the wider plan. What was relevant, was the second wave that had hit with little warning. It required significant restraint on her part not to connect a call to Kessler and demand to know from that son of a bitch what the hell had happened. It was the reason that Ashley Williams was now lying dead at her feet and she had narrowly avoided being killed with a bullet to the head by another marine. The wound to her skull hurt like hell, but it was superficial. The shot has just grazed her. Usually she wouldn't be so thankful that one of their own had such piss poor aim.

"Cap-"

Alves turned, silencing the marine with a curt glare. "What?"

"The _Normandy_ …do we have permission to pursue?"

A disdainful snort escaped Alves' lips. "With what, corporal? None of the antiquated pieces of shit under my command would be able to catch that damned ship. It's gone. Now make yourself useful and find a damn body bag for this bitch."

She punctuated her order and vented some of her anger by lashing out with her boot. There was a loud thunk as armour collided with armour, but any sense of satisfaction was short-lived. She had the sinking feeling that somehow she would end up being the scapegoat for this particular fuck up.

"That's _Captain Williams_ , ma'am."

At the sudden statement Alves looked up. She hadn't been paying any sort of attention to the marine she'd been addressing. Now she could see that the private in question was a young woman. Alves sneered when she saw that there were actual tears in the marine's eyes. Probably one of the fools that had enlisted because of Ashley fucking Williams.

"That doesn't make her any less dead. Now tag and bag the damn body!" Alves growled. "I want off this rock asap."

Her mind was already moving onto the next task, namely explaining the whole mess to her superiors. She turned her back on the private. Alves knew full well that her anger was misplaced. It was fuelled by the same jealousy that bubbled to the surface whenever she heard talk about the great Commander Shepard. She was never able to escape that lingering thought at the back of her mind – _she_ should have been that hero. The reason for kids deciding to enlist in the Corps. The thought was easily suppressed. Alves knew exactly where being a hero led - Shepard was a hunted fugitive and Williams was fucking dead.

* * *

 

Several hours later Alves found herself sitting in front of her private terminal, rapping her fingernails impatiently on the desk as she waited for a secure connection. Knowing the person she was trying to connect to, Alves imagined that the delay was deliberate.

"No video, Cristiane?" Despite the fact that the display was saying it was 3am on Earth, the voice did not sound sleepy in the slightest.

"I don't feel like looking at your insufferable face," Alves muttered. She massaged her temples, listening to that accent was almost just as irritating.

"Well, the feeling is mutual," was the curt response. "Is everything proceeding according to plan?"

"Not exactly," Alves actually realised that she felt a perverse sort of pleasure around her pending revelation. "The whole Ashley Williams scenario just became a hell of a lot more interesting."

There was an irritated snort on the other side of the connection. "Don't tell me the sister survived? If Captain Williams isn't compliant, that's your problem."

"Oh, she's very compliant." Alves smirked, suddenly wishing she had opted for video _. Fuck it, might as well go all in_. "She's dead. Good luck with that, doctor."

 


	45. The Weight of Grief

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

"What the fuck, Cheerleader?"

Although barely a whisper, the sound of Jack's voice roused Miranda from sleep. She sat up, orientating herself in strange surrounds. Somehow, she'd fallen asleep in a chair, slumped forward against Jack's bed. If that situation wasn't embarrassing enough, the muscles in her neck and back were painfully taut. Miranda rose to her feet and busied herself with stretching. She was grateful for the distraction, well aware that Jack was staring at her with an expression of disgust. Miranda didn't blame Jack for having the reaction. She herself was finding it difficult to believe that she'd barely left Jack's beside since they'd arrived on Omega.

Still, disgust was a good sign. It meant that Jack had regained consciousness with her faculties and idiosyncrasies fully intact, straight back into her favourite sport – baiting the Cheerleader. Out of habit – and continuing embarrassment - Miranda studied the displays on the instruments next to the bed. Everything was positive. All of Jack's vitals were strong and stable.

If the events on Mindoir hadn't already been enough, then the relief that flooded Miranda's body told her exactly why she'd stayed at Jack's bedside. She fucking cared about Jack. The other biotic was a walking definition of a psychotic shit, but she cared about her. And Jack knew it.

Despite her miraculous survival, Jack still looked impossibly frail lying back against the bed. Her hair was lank, drooping partially over her forehead. It was only when Miranda's hand twitched, that she realised she wanted to reach out and smooth the clump of hair back. Mercifully she stopped herself. She gratefully sank back into her chair.

"So I wake up…and you're sleeping next to me." Jack had to pause and swallow. Despite the obvious pain she was in, Jack's voice was surprisingly audible. "Tell me you didn't fucking safe my life too?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Miranda replied in a curt voice. "You saved yourself."

The answer appeared to satisfy Jack. Her face creased with concern. "The colonists? The rest of my garrison?"

"Two questions, that's all. I answer them and you have to promise to stop talking and rest. Do we have a deal?"

"Not promising you shit," Jack muttered in a sullen whisper.

Miranda arched an eyebrow. Jack rolled her eyes before eventually responding with a slow nod.

"Bar a few dozen who didn't make it into shelter in the first place, the colonists are all fine. Believe it or not, they're currently enjoying Aria T'Loak's hospitality here on Omega. I haven't been keeping up with the latest plans because…well, I haven't-" She'd been far too busy watching over Jack like a hawk to pay attention to any other details. It'd been eight hours since they'd arrived on Omega and she'd barely spoken to another soul other than the hacks that passed for doctors. "-but they're safe and that's all that matters in the current climate."

"Mission objective achieved," Jack quipped quietly. "And my garrison?"

There was no good news on that front. The garrison of misfits and FNGs that Jack had presided over had been wiped out almost to a man. When she tried to open her mouth to reply, the words stuck in her throat. Finch's boyish face was stuck in her memory.

"The cost of achieving that mission objective," Miranda replied. "Besides you and I, there are a handful left. Parker, Rousmaniere, just three others."

Jack closed her eyes. A deep, rattling sigh left her lips. This time Miranda made no attempt to stop herself from reaching out to lay her hand atop Jack's. Both of their hands were icy cold. When Jack made no attempt to draw away, Miranda squeezed firmly – reassuring herself just as much as Jack.

While she hadn't declared it out loud, Miranda inherently knew that her short-lived career in the Alliance Navy was over. She couldn't help but view this as a colossal failure on her part. A decorated career and rising through the ranks had never been her intention, but she had at least hoped to do some good. Of course saving Mindoir's colonists counted, but in the galactic scheme of things it was small compared to overthrowing the corrupt regime at the head of the Alliance. Kessler and his cronies were still very much in power and she was stuck in limbo on Omega.

Jack's hand twitched slightly, indicating that the hand holding had gone on long enough. Miranda withdrew, resorting to sitting on her hands in an attempt to restore some semblance of warmth. Her train of thought drove her thoughts towards the maudlin. Despite her promise to Ash that they would find a way to have a normal relationship, Miranda knew how vital it was that Ash kept her position within the Alliance. Ash had the respect of the grunts and, despite all the shit she'd pulled over the past few months, the brass still had faith in her. The whole situation was balanced on a knife edge…and Miranda hated it. Not only the fact that events conspired to keep her apart from Ash, but that she was in such a mess to begin with. To have her hopes and joys so intimately entwined with those of another, went against the precepts she had always lived her life by. She even found herself wondering whether it would have been easier to deny Ash forgiveness.

Miranda's rumbling stomach drew her attention back to the present - thankfully reminding her that she wasn't exactly in a space where she could give into her thoughts. After the hand-holding incident and the prolonged silence, Miranda didn't dare meet Jack's gaze. She rose to her feet, her body protesting at this new movement.

"I'm going to find something that passes for food on this shithole," Miranda announced. "Can I get you anything?"

"Yeah, a fuck ton of booze," Jack was quick to reply.

Against her better judgement, Miranda smiled. She managed to look up to find that Jack was wearing a weak grin of her own. "Not happening. I'll find you some lemonade or a juice box."

"Whoop-de-fucking doo dah," Jack scoffed.

The smile remained on Miranda's face as she headed for the door. The anxiety of the past day was behind her. Jack would live to fight another day.

"Have you spoken to Captain Perfect?"

Miranda paused just inside the threshold of the room. Despite its obvious nature, the question caught her off-guard. It stirred an entirely different anxiety that she had managed to push to the back of her mind. If she let herself speak about Ash, then she wouldn't be able to think about anything else.

"Two questions, Jack. That's three," she said looking over her shoulder.

Jack shook her head to the extent that she could manage. "This is a personal question, Lawson. I don't need to ask how you are, you look fucking awful. Just spill, or I'll crawl out of this bed and beat it out of you."

"Fine," Miranda replied tersely. She softened slightly as she continued, "I spoke to Ash yesterday, before she hit the ground."

"And?" Jack rolled her eyes in frustration. "What? You forgave her?"

Miranda nodded emphatically. She paused for a few moments before speaking. A smile touched her lips. "I forgave her the moment she confessed. It just took me a little time to admit it."

Jack made a fake retching sound. "You make me sick. Go get my damn lemonade."

* * *

 

In the wake of the Cerberus occupation, the one thing that Omega had plenty of was housing. Civilians that had either died or fled to greener pastures had left behind their apartments. No one could claim that it was luxurious, but to those colonists that had been saved from Mindoir, the shelter offered a welcome respite from the hell they'd left behind.

Although it was obvious on the surface, Shepard couldn't quite understand why she felt so personally responsible for the welfare of these people. She had no real experience with what they were going through, no understanding of what they had lost. Yet it was important for her to stand amongst them. She needed to hear for herself that they felt safe, despite having been brought to a place that most would only have heard stories about. _None of them likely to be good_ , Shepard thought, feeling as though she had failed them already.

The unexpected sound of children's laughter reached her ears. When she found the source, Shepard had to smile. Samara was surrounded by a bevy of human children, most of whom did not come up to the asari's waist. Samara's expression betrayed absolutely nothing as the kids clamoured to ask her questions, their enthusiasm undaunted by the traumatic experience that they had just been through.

"There would be no purpose in utilising my biotics at this point in time," Samara explained to her rapt audience. "It is suffice to say that they exist regardless of whether or not I engage in a demonstration for your benefit."

"Is that a hint of exasperation I detect in your voice?" Shepard asked as she approached.

Samara looked up. "It is not. The continued demand that I demonstrate my biotics however is futile. Such powers are not merely for show."

"Nevertheless, you have quite a fan club."

Shepard reached out to ruffle the hair of a young boy hanging back slightly. He looked up at her with an expression that was halfway between fascination and fear.

"My Dad said they can control your mind," he whispered. "Is it true?"

Shepard crouched down to his eye level. "Not in the slightest." _Unless you happen to fall in love with one_ , she mused to herself. "They may look different, but they're just like us. You don't realise it, but you're looking at one of the bravest asari in the Galaxy. She helped Shepard stop the Reapers. So if Shepard trusted her, you should trust her too."

The kid looked back towards Samara with rapt adoration on his face. With a grin forming on her face, Shepard stood up.

"If you all sit down and be quiet," Shepard addressed the kids. "I'm sure Samara will tell you a story or two."

Finally Samara's expression wavered slightly. Shepard couldn't tell whether it was alarm or resignation. Regardless, she didn't regret it as the kids began folding themselves into sitting positions at Samara's feet. One little girl was tugging on the justicar's hand in an effort to get her to sit with them. As Samara eventually gave in, Shepard continued walking. No doubt she would be on the receiving end of Samara's detached reprimands later. In that moment, as the kids' faces lit up with expectation, she didn't care.

The older generations of colonists were less likely to be able to ignore what had just happened to them. Having left behind their entire lives on Mindoir, their faces reflected their uncertainty about their future. Some sat and talked in small groups in the street. They continued to talk in the unguarded manner of those used to living their lives in a tight knit community. Shepard couldn't help but overhear their conversations. She stopped next to a group of men who were warming their hands over a heat lamp. They nodded in acknowledgement, but continued talking.

"I sunk every credit I had into that damn farm. Should've stayed. Rebuilt."

"Better you than me, Morgan," added another. "Most of our garrison was wiped out trying to fight those bastards off. If them, or anyone else like 'em, came back for round two you'd be a sitting duck. Nah, I reckon we're better off here."

"The Alliance will send replacements," Morgan argued stubbornly. "They're not just going to give up Mindoir without a fight. They didn't the last time around, they won't this time."

"In case you've forgotten already, it wasn't the Alliance that came to the rescue. I'm damn sure it was a bunch of asari that saved our asses."

"It was a bunch of asari that saved your asses," Shepard commented quietly. They all looked towards her, weary expressions on their faces. "But your own garrison gave their lives to buy you time. There's no such thing as us and them anymore. It's just _us_."

"You may speak the truth, stranger," one sighed. "And I'm grateful, to the asari and to those that died, but I'm scared. Scared for myself and my kids." He made a pointed motion of looking at their surroundings. "We may be safe, but this is no place for them to spend their childhood."

"You're not going to be abandoned here," Shepard tried to reassure them. "Plans are already underway to help you resettle somewhere else."

"With all due respect, who you are you? How can you say that with any certainty?"

Shepard smiled sadly. "I'm no one. Just a concerned friend. Have you all had enough to eat? Warm clothes?"

"I dunno if I'd call it food as such, but my belly's full," the one named Morgan replied. He looked young, the sort of guy who had a couple of kids and everything to live for. "Hey, this is going to sound weird, but has anyone ever told you that you look a hell of a lot like The Shepard?"

"You're the first," Shepard replied, truthfully enough. "I might take it as a compliment…if that woman didn't insist on having such awful haircuts."

Every single face stared at her with an expression that suggested she had just said something offensive. Shepard managed an awkward smile, supposing she should be flattered that the colonists thought so highly of her memory. It was something of a head trip however.

Shepard decided to excuse herself before she let anything slip. Although she knew that it was only a matter of time before her identity did get out, she needed it to be on her own terms. Or at least the terms that Liara decided were right.

The colonists' conversation continued without her as she walked away.

"Since when were you best friends with Commander Shepard?"

"Did I say I was? I just said she looked a little like her, that's it. Shit, it was an observation."

"Well it's bloody ridiculous. The Shepard was killed when the Crucible fired. Everyone knows that."

_Not dead. Just out of her depth_ , Shepard thought. The back of her neck suddenly tingled. Most of the time she paid only cursory attention to this instinct, enough at least to keep her out of trouble, as there was always someone watching on Omega. However she was drawn to glance upwards, picking out two figures observing the colonists from a gangway above the street. She recognised them easily, grateful that none of the colonists had realised that Aria T'Loak herself was watching from above.

Shepard was hardly surprised. This was Aria's realm. Anything that upset the equilibrium to such an extent required close oversight. Nor was Shepard surprised to find Kurin standing at Aria's side. There was no desire to pry on her part, but it was an unlikely pairing. The Queen of Omega and a commando from one of Thessia's most notable families.

She invited herself to stand with them, earning absolutely no reaction from Aria and a brief, awkward nod from Kurin. The latter discreetly shuffled a pace to the right – putting more distance between herself and Aria.

Shepard bent over the railing in a lazy fashion. Though the company hardly warranted letting her guard down, she at least wanted to create the illusion that all of this came easily to her. From the vantage point the colonists looked even smaller, more desperate. She felt guilty for thinking they looked like animals in a zoo.

The one thing she wouldn't do was say thank you. Although Aria's motivations remained unclear, Shepard knew that Omega's ruler had not done this in order to be thanked any more than she had done it out of the goodness of her heart.

"Shepard." Aria finally offered up some sort of greeting. It was hardly friendly. "Do you enjoy making Omega into one giant target for your friends on Earth?"

"Omega has always been a target," Shepard replied. "This doesn't change anything."

"This changes everything. It looks like I'm choosing sides." Aria was unimpressed as she turned to look at Shepard, her gaze like daggers. She waved her hand dismissively at the colonists. "All of this…rubbish, looks bad for business. As though I'm opening up Omega to refugees out of some benevolent desire to start helping the Galaxy as opposed to bleeding it dry."

"Isn't that why you're doing it?" The resulting look on Aria's face amused her. "The Aria I know would have left them to rot on Mindoir."

"They're collateral – plain and simple. Security against the day the Alliance tries to come here and fuck my shit up."

"As tempting as it is, the Alliance can't afforded to be interested in Omega except in terms of Shepard's whereabouts." Kurin broke her silence. "You're a good person. Plain and simple."

Shepard had to swallow a delighted chuckle – watching half a dozen reactions pass across Aria's face within a few seconds. Brows narrowed, gaze burning, jaw tight. The expected violence never emerged. Instead Aria folded her arms across her chest as she scowled down at the colonists. The one place she did not look, was towards Kurin.

"You make me hate myself," Aria muttered moments later.

As much as Shepard enjoyed the exchange, she didn't like the manner in which Aria's fingers tapped out an impatient rhythm on her bicep.

"Kurin is right about one thing. Your whereabouts." Aria turned to face Shepard. "Anyone with half a brain looking for you will view this as conclusive proof that you're here. I hope this doesn't mean that you're no longer leaving."

Shepard shook her head. "This only makes it more urgent to put distance between myself and Omega as soon as possible. As soon as I hear that Williams has things wrapped up on Chasca, Liara and I will be out of your non-existent hair. I'll trust you to keep the colonists safe until we can find them a more permanent home."

"You're a presumptuous little shit, Shepard. You've just reminded me exactly I wasn't sorry when I found out you were dead." Aria's voice betrayed nothing. She jerked her chin dismissively towards the huddled masses below. "I'll keep them fed and watered. Collateral remember?"

Shepard decided to quit while she was ahead, offering up a simple nod in response. Heavy, thudding footsteps on the gangway drew everyone's attention. It was Hanek, his urgent pace hinting that something was wrong. A datapad was clutched in his meaty fist.

"That…thing you were looking for, Aria," Hanek began, casting a suspicious glance in Shepard's direction. "I've found out where it went."

* * *

 

"Did you know that Myke managed to sneak aboard the _Normandy_?"

Liara looked towards Shepard standing in the doorway, her brow deeply furrowed and fingers poised, unmoving, above the haptic interface. Shepard regretted springing the question on her bondmate so suddenly, but she had needed to ask the question to convince herself that it really had happened. Myke was undoubtedly strong-willed, but the audacity to stowaway on an Alliance vessel? Shepard would have laughed had the whole situation not been so serious.

"I…no." Liara's chagrin was obvious.

"Aria's people picked her up on a two-day old security feed. I think we can assume that someone on board the _Normandy_ found her, although not in time to do anything other than take her with them."

The markings above Liara's eyes rose sharply. "Clearly I have not been giving her enough credit. Goddess, as...irksome as she sometimes is, I would hate for anything to happen to her. And I know how much she means to you."

"Myke is resourceful, and Ash won't see her come to any harm." It surprised Shepard just how reassured she was that Myke was in safe hands. "I just wouldn't want to be the little scamp when she returns. Aria was furious when she found out. If I didn't know better, I'd think she cared about Myke."

"Undoubtedly," Liara commented, turning her attention back to her screens. "Which brings me to the _Normandy_. I have been trying to contact them for several hours, unsuccessfully. I instinctively feel that they are there, but are maintaining radio silence for some reason."

"Ash knows what she's doing," Shepard said in a determined voice. She followed the direction of Liara's gaze, searching the feeds on each of the screens. "Is there anything at all from Chasca? The other colonies that were attacked?"

A shadow fell over Liara's face. "That is the matter I wanted to bring to your attention. There have been no reports from any of the major news networks. However five minutes ago, this recording came to my attention." Liara used several of the screens to bring up a grainy video feed. "It was uploaded using an encrypted network, no doubt having been routed through several locations before being broadcast. It has undoubtedly come to the Alliance's attention, but is yet to appear on any news feeds in Alliance space."

"Why are they sitting on it?"

"I do not know, but it is…inflammatory to say the least."

Shepard felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as the video began to play. Although she had never been to Chasca, she recognised the planet instantly with its inimitable twilight. The view panned across the landscape. Blasted, hollow shells of buildings still smouldered. Lines of bent-backed colonists were being herded towards waiting transport ships, silently awaiting their fate of being sold into slavery. Shepard felt her nails dig into her palm as her fist tightened.

While the level of destruction did not compare to what she had witnessed during the Reaper War, Shepard could clearly see the ferocity of the assault. And for what? Simple greed?

"Why the hell was Chasca attacked?" She could hear the anger in her own tone. "There's nothing there other than scientists and colonists trying to create some sort of life for themselves. Civilians, Liara!" She drew in a breath, trying to focus on what mattered. "Did you manage to find out if Ash's sister is safe?"

"Not yet. I have yet to examine the video. However you will want to keep watching."

The camera came to a stop, focusing in on the back of a lone figure – unmistakably Batarian, wearing blood red armour. He turned. The first thought that entered Shepard's head was of unbridled cruelty. The twist to his lips, all four eyes seeming to pierce the screen.

_{Do you enjoy watching your civilisation burn? Your people be enslaved?}_ His voice was a barely audible rasp. _{Are you standing there asking yourself what I could possibly hope to achieve with this series of attacks? I want nothing other than your suffering. The knowledge that you caused this through your actions. My name is Varek Kor'Amon. I lead the Vash'Bahak and I claim responsibility for the attacks against human worlds. I will not stop until I have wiped out 300,000 of your kind…just as you so cruelly wiped out mine.}_

Even as the video cut to static, Shepard was unable to draw her gaze away from the screen. "It sounded almost as though he was…"

The insinuation behind his words had been so blatant, Shepard didn't see how the Batarian could possibly be referring to anyone else.

"He _was_ talking to me," Shepard continued, closing her eyes for a moment. She opened them and looked at Liara. "How the hell does that son of a bitch know I'm alive?"

"I am afraid that is just one of our problems…albeit a significant one-"

"I should bloody think so," Shepard interrupted for a moment.

"However, it is still simply knowledge. Our concern needs to lie with the practicalities – who is bankrolling this _Vash'Bahak_ -"

"And that means?"

"The Brotherhood of Bahak."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Of course it does."

"It is clear that the bulk of the forces attacking over the previous days were mercenaries. It is simply not possible for the entire operation to have been bankrolled by the Batarian government. All of my intel indicates that they are still in considerable disarray…anarchy almost – which creates fertile breeding ground for such a movement, but explains little else." Liara paused and looked Shepard in the eye. "The impact of these events will have huge ramifications for the Galaxy, but most significantly in terms of the Alliance and their policies on Earth. I do not need to tell you what that means."

"Fear, panic…justification of the Alliance's xenophobia. Widespread popular support." Shepard stated the obvious. "Where do we stand on tracking the roots of this movement, putting an end to it before it can cause real chaos?"

"That is where I do not have a great deal of good news," Liara replied in a sober voice. "I have agents working to trace the originating signal of the video, but that is merely a first step. Whatever _this_ is, I fear it is a much larger beast."

Shepard sighed. "Then until you give me a target, there's not a great deal I can do."

"It was never simply a case of giving you a target, Evan," Liara admonished slightly.

"Fine, I know that. I was just breaking down into something that a dumb grunt can understand."

"We can argue why that is not true at a later date. When was the last time you slept?"

Honestly unable to remember, Shepard merely offered up a shrug. It was only now that she was forced to think about it, she realised that it must have been some time ago.

"You should rest."

"A couple of hours then."

Liara nodded. "I will wake you if there are any developments."

Shepard made it as far as her bed. Almost ten minutes later she had yet to strip any of her clothes off or make a move to lie down. She simply sat, staring out of the window as though the view could offer some sort of wisdom. Varek Kor'Amon's message played on a loop in her head. The threats a stark reminder of what had happened on Aratoht. The events that had unfolded there haunted her nightmares. Even if she wanted to forget, she couldn't. Often she found herself playing out different scenarios in her head. Mostly asking herself whether it would have been possible to save the system and its colonists. The fact that she came to the same conclusion every time, hardly helped her conscience. Even if she had been able to warn the colonists, most wouldn't have been able to escape in time.

_We do what we have to do_.

She was still sitting and thinking when the tap of footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Shepard looked up to see Liara standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression on her face. Something compelled Shepard to stand.

"Evan…we are about to have our answers," Liara announced quietly. "The _Normandy_ is docking now."

* * *

 

_You're going to need this, Chief…Are you good to go?...Well stay close then._

All Sam could think about were those chaotic moments on Chasca. The last few moments that Ashley had been alive – helping her back to her feet, telling her to stay close. Sam couldn't remember much of what had followed from that point, her reality had been overwhelmed by the explosion, but she had the very clear image of Ash reacting instinctively. She couldn't shake the thought that Ash had died to save her life.

_{You requested to be informed when we docked, Samantha.}_ EDI's voice startled Sam out of her thoughts.

"Yeah, I guess did," Sam replied wearily.

_{And Mycea Kasos is looking for you. She is quite insistent}_

Sam wasn't hiding - although she supposed that folding herself away between storage crates in the shuttle bay could be considered as such. And it certainly wasn't that she was trying to avoid Myke. She had just wanted a quiet space to be alone with her thoughts. If Sam were being utterly honest, she felt that being with Myke was a greater degree of comfort than she deserved. Sam was punishing herself for having survived.

"Please let Myke know where to find me, EDI."

Sam hauled herself to her feet, belatedly wondering whether she ought to have done something with her appearance. She'd briefly checked in with Chakwas to confirm that she didn't have any life threatening injuries. At some point Myke had made her scrub the grime from her face. And that was it. She was still wearing the compression suit she'd worn on Chasca. The painful knot in her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten for some time.

"Was it my fault, EDI?" Sam asked quietly, hardly expecting the AI to answer in any meaningful way.

_{If you are referring to Captain Williams' death, it was not your fault.}_ EDI's reply was immediate, almost abrupt. _{If there is blame to be attributed, it falls on the Captain. An analysis of her behaviour leading up to her death indicates that she was not thinking rationally. She ignored basic Alliance protocol. I conclude that her actions put your life at risk, Samantha.}_

EDI's analysis did not help Sam in the slightest. If anything, it made her feel worse. "Please don't repeat that, EDI…to anyone."

_{The analysis does not detract from Captain Williams' otherwise exemplary service record-}_

"Just don't repeat it."

_{Would it comfort you to know that the telemetry from her suit indicated that death was instantaneous?}_

Sam choked back a sudden sob. "No, it doesn't. Just stop talking for fuck's sake."

_{I am…sorry, Samantha. I analysed the most effective ways to provide assistance and apparently my conclusions were incorrect.}_ EDI explained. _{I find Captain Williams' absence…difficult.}_

At that point Sam realised what lay behind EDI's awkward attempts at conversation. The A.I was grieving in her own manner. And Sam had callously shut her down.

"EDI, I'm sorry. I miss her too. I'm just scared…scared about telling my friends, about what this might mean for all of us."

Myke joined her a few minutes later and Sam tried her utmost to focus on the present - on their arrival. It was hardly the sort of homecoming to be remembered. Firstly for the fact that Omega couldn't remotely be considered to be home. Secondly – more importantly – for the awful task that Sam was now faced with. Myke had asked why the task had fallen to her in the first place. Sam had honestly replied that it had to be her. These were her friends, her family. She owed it to them.

As Sam walked through the docking tube, she caught a glimpse of the welcoming party waiting to greet them. It was mercifully small. Just Liara, Captain Kurin, and Samara. Her sigh of relief was short-lived when she spotted a further figure standing apart from the trio of asari. Despite the fact that her face was shadowed by a hood, Sam immediately recognised Shepard. The one person who was not present, was Miranda Lawson.

_How am I supposed to do this?_ Sam thought - torn between the desire to break down and cry or the need to be stoic. Somehow her feet continued to carry her forward, though it was the last destination she wanted to reach.

Sam thought she had managed to maintain some vestige of control, however something in her expression must have betrayed her. As she approached, Liara responded by moving to embrace her.

"Don't." Sam held up her hands, forming a barrier. She bit her lip, regretting her instinctive response, but knew she couldn't afford to fall apart yet.

The dissonant response alerted Shepard, who joined the small group to stand close, but not so close that Sam felt crowded.

"It is good to see you safe, Samantha," Liara said quickly, alleviating some of the tension.

"And you." Sam looked at each of them in turn, Shepard last, trying to ground herself in their solidity - that she was amongst friends. "All of you."

"The operation on Chasca-"Liara began. "It did not go as planned?"

"We were too late. Most of the colonists were taken." Sam's voice sounded mechanical to her own ears, as though she were recounting a story she had heard second-hand. She tried to hold onto that detachment. "I was with Captain Williams when she found her sister's body-" Sam made the mistake of pausing. A lump stuck in her throat and she had to force her next words free. "A second wave caught us by surprise."

"Sam?"

Shepard's soft question was accompanied by an abrupt shake of her head, almost as if willing Sam to give a different answer to the one that was on her lips. However there was only one truth. For all Sam's reluctance, and the angst-ridden expression on Shepard's face, that truth had to be said.

"Ash took the full impact of a high explosive round. She was killed instantly." Sam bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Watching the realisation dawn on the faces of her friends was one of the hardest things she had ever had to do. "I'm so sorry, Shepard."

Shepard exhaled – a laborious, tremulous breath, making no attempt to hide her pain. Without hesitation, Sam stepped forward and threw her arms around Shepard's shoulders in a fierce embrace. She heard a single, choked sob against her shoulder, then she felt Shepard's shoulders tighten.

"Thank you for doing this, Sam," Shepard said as she eased out of the hug a few moments later. Her gaze then travelled in the vague direction of the Normandy. "Is she on board?"

"No." Sam felt her control start to slip. She shook her head. "Shepard…everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. The colonists. Sarah and Ash. And-" Sam hiccupped slightly. Her cheeks burned. "Captain Alves was there. She was going to execute Myke. I-I had to shoot her. Then the other marines…I don't know, it's almost as if they didn't view us as being on the same side any longer. They challenged Major Chakwas and opened fire. We have no other choice but to leave her body...to leave Ash, on Chasca."

Suddenly Sam's knees buckled. She would have crashed to the ground, but for Shepard's quick reactions.

"Hey, let go, Chief. You're safe, your job is done."

Shepard set her back on her feet. For the first time since the nightmare had unfolded on Chasca, Sam felt the crushing weight lift from her shoulders. Instead it was Shepard whose expression shifted - a resolute determination that Sam recognised all too well. Gone was any trace of the earlier grief, instead Sam saw the focussed mask worn by someone who had a job to do.

As Shepard stepped away to confer with Liara a few moments later, Sam felt overwhelmingly grateful that it was finally someone else carrying the burden. There was an accompanying sympathy of course, but she'd seen Shepard's strength of character first-hand. If anyone could rise above the tragedy, it would be Shepard.

There was a light touch on her elbow. Sam turned around to find Myke staring at her with a gentle expression. "Do you want to get out of here? You look like you're about to fall asleep on your feet."

"I'd like nothing more," Sam replied. The mere thought of wrapping herself around Myke's body and falling into a dreamless sleep made her sigh wistfully. "Just give me a moment. There's something I need to do first."

Even as Sam approached the lone figure leaning against a storage crate, she still wasn't sure what had compelled her forward. In another few seconds it was likely that she would end up floating in the middle of a singularity.

"Captain Kurin?"

Kurin responded with a slight jolt, straightening and squaring her shoulders. She didn't turn around immediately, instead reaching up to wipe her face in an unmistakable gesture. When the commando did turn, there were no traces of tears or emotion on her face. Just a blank nothingness.

"I know what you're going to say," Kurin said before Sam could open her mouth. "Whatever I felt towards Captain Williams, it is no one's affair but my own. Miranda Lawson will never find out, not by my own admission nor any of the commandos under my command."

"Oh…" Sam was taken aback, unable to respond immediately other than to shake her head. "No, that wasn't what…I just wanted to ask if you're okay? I know Ashley meant a great deal to you."

Kurin's expression flickered for a moment. It might have been surprise. Then she offered a taut nod. "I'm fine."

"Okay." Sam started to back away. She was about to turn when something stopped her. Although she could hardly consider the commando to be a friend, she hated the thought of anyone having to deal with grief alone. "If you need to talk, I'm here."

The offer came out rushed and barely coherent. It also sounded entirely pathetic and Sam felt no better for having made it, but she hoped that somehow her intentions made some sort of difference.

In seeing Kurin's façade break for a split second, Sam suspected that she had only rubbed salt into an open wound. She offered up an entirely futile nod before committing to a hurried retreat. However she could not discard the guilt that plagued her. She was able to return to Myke's side, to the welcome of a comforting embrace, while Kurin was left alone.

* * *

 

Liara couldn't help but feel as though she had suffered more than her fair share of loss across her short lifetime. Sometimes she thought that it ought to get easier. This state of loss, of grieving. It never did. The curse of being asari. Throughout their millennia-long lifespans they would have to watch as comrades, friends, and lovers died. Each life sometimes so short as to be a mere interlude in their own. She had lost Shepard twice. Both times had almost destroyed her.

She had long considered Ashley to be family, her loss was devastating. Yet at the same time she could not help but feel a very palpable sense of relief that it had not been Shepard. This last thought she suppressed in the face of an overwhelming sense of guilt and disgust.

She reached out to Shepard, needing to feel something tangible beneath her fingers. "We should return home."

"No," Shepard whispered, shaking her head stubbornly. She pushed away from Liara. Somehow she had to clear her head, to focus on the tasks at hand rather than give into her grief. If she did that, then she knew that she would be of no use to anyone. "Not yet. Miranda-" Her voice wobbled a little. She swallowed. "Miranda needs to hear this from me."

"I have a great deal of experience in this. Much more than any individual has any right to have," Liara ventured slowly. "I should accompany you."

Shepard shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, Li, but I think this is something I should do alone. I… _know_ Miranda. Better than most…"

_Than anyone bar Ash_ , was the sentence that went unspoken.

"Do you know where she is?"

"With Jack. She's hardly left the clinic. I don't know whether she's genuinely worried about Jack or if it's her way of keeping herself busy while she waited for the _Normandy_ to come back." Shepard offered up a small shrug. "Probably a little of both."

"Her relationship with Jack seems to have changed considerably from what I can recall."

"I don't have the first clue about what happened between them on Mindoir, but I saw the aftermath. They almost died for each other down there," Shepard said quietly. "I'm not quite ready to confront Jack myself yet, not with everything that is going on, but somehow…I don't know how…I have the feeling that Jack might be the key to getting Miranda through this."

Shepard was about to leave when she felt a gentle touch on her sleeve. Liara looked at her through glassy eyes. "And I'm here to get _you_ through this. As callous as it sounds, you can't afford to lose focus. We need to-"

"I know, Li," Shepard interrupted softly, but firmly. "I know exactly what we need to do I. But I need to do this first."

* * *

 

Omega's usually brilliant lights seemed washed out and dull. Even the frenetic beat of the place had slowed to crawl. Listless and empty. Much as Shepard herself felt. Although the clinic was just across the street, Shepard couldn't bring herself to move towards it. Not yet. She was all too aware of the weight of her task. It hung like a millstone around her neck, preventing her from giving into her own grief even though the pain burned like acid just beneath her skin. Shepard had to wrench her gaze away from the clinic. She turned and pressed against the barrier, leaning heavily against it as she gasped for breath. Omega's stale air hit the back of her throat.

"What the hell happened, Ash?" The question drifted out in a strangled whisper.

Shepard closed her eyes, a part of her hoping for some form of answer. The only response was the crushing reminder that she would never see Ash again. She was forced to press her fist against her lips to keep the sob from escaping. For an agonising minute, Shepard feared that she would lose control. She came back to herself, managed not to scrub at her burning eyes, and willed herself to cross the street.

Even as she set foot inside the clinic, Shepard's thoughts remained scattered. She counted it a small victory that she had managed not to break down, but that was the extent of her self-control. Everything else was a mess.

_Ash didn't make it…she died – no, she was killed on Chasca. Ash is dead._ _I'm so sorry, Miranda._ This wasn't the first time that Shepard had told someone a loved one was dead, but she'd never had to do it quite like this - when both people involved meant so much to her. The words that she knew she had to say did not sound right in her head. _All your hopes for a future together, they're gone._

Rational thought disappeared. Miranda was walking towards her. It was too late for Shepard to do anything other than stand still and fix a neutral expression on her face. As she tried not to give anything away, the expression morphed into a panicked grin.

"Shepard." Miranda returned the smile, managing to make it look perfect even when she was so obviously exhausted. "If you've come to see the patient then you're ten minutes too late."

"How's she doing?"

"Fortunately…or not, depending on your point of view, Jack's going to make a full recovery. And it's likely that she'll be out of bed in a few days." Miranda's tone carried a distinct fondness as she spoke. "I trust I can count on you to help me keep her out of Afterlife?"

"That can only end badly for me," Shepard replied. For the first time she noticed that Miranda was wearing an ill-fitting set of commando leathers, no doubt loaned by one of the asari on the _Pserimos_. "If you can stand to leave Jack, I think you should come back to my place for a shower and a change of clothes."

Miranda looked down at herself with a self-deprecating shake of her head. "Even when I was on the run from Cerberus I still managed to hold onto a few possessions. Now I literally have nothing, not even the clothes I'm wearing." She tugged at the tight collar. "Captain Kurin is at least a size smaller than I am."

_Definitely a change of clothes_ , Shepard thought as she let Miranda lead the way out of the clinic. Even though Miranda had no idea who Kurin had been to Ashley, Shepard felt sick to her stomach at the irony of it all.

Somehow her feet were moving, but she wasn't entirely sure of her reality. Surely any world that could be this cruel couldn't possibly be the reason why they were fighting. They'd all sacrificed enough, Miranda more than most. In that moment Shepard desperately didn't want to be the one to have to tell Miranda than Ash was dead. She regretted turning down Liara's offer of help. Sinking even deeper than that, Shepard regretted not being at Ash's side on Chasca – as though there was something she could have done to save her friend.

_If you'd been on Chasca as opposed to Mindoir, then Miranda would be dead. This whole conversation would play out regardless, only with Ash on the receiving end._ Shepard's shoulders slumped. _Face it. People around you, close to you, they're going to continue dying in order to achieve this peace._

Miranda settled into step next to her. Shepard risked a glance and memorised the Miranda that she saw – tired but hopeful, untainted by the knowledge that she carried. For the first time she felt guilty that she was dragging the whole process out in an effort to be a little kinder. After all, there was nothing miraculous about a shower or a change of clothes.

"You remember when we were leaving Omega after recruiting Garrus and Mordin?" Miranda suddenly asked.

"What? No, not really." It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"We were standing in the CIC, EDI had just refused to let me board until I had the varren shit cleaned from my boot, and I swore that I would never come back here."

At another time, Shepard might have laughed. She did remember. Miranda's cold, aloof façade had seemed impenetrable. She opened her mouth to apologise for dragging Miranda back to Omega, but the worlds sounded hollow before they even left her lips.

In hindsight Shepard might have thought of the possible flaws in her plan, or that she wasn't thinking clearly enough to anticipate them. Unfortunately everything can into stark relief in the moment that a quartet of dockworkers passed them on their way to Afterlife. They were understandably raucous, looking forward to spending their hard-earned credits, completely unaware of the need to censor their conversation.

"I never get tired of seeing the _Normandy_ sitting in that dock. She's one fine looking ship."

"Says the idiot who said we'd never see her again...twice! Yet there she is."

"C'mon, Grez! How many Alliance vessels do you see hanging around Omega? Let alone the fucking _Normandy_. I'd sell my own fucking child to get on board that beauty - if I had any to sell!"

"Gotta wonder what she's doing back though..."

Miranda had stopped walking with the first mention of the _Normandy_. Shepard had continued for several more steps before she realised Miranda wasn't following. She couldn't bring herself to turn around. Though Shepard could hear the rest of the conversation as the dockworkers drifted away, the words didn't register.

She felt a stab of pain in her hand and realised that she was clenching her fists, digging her nails into her palms. Her knuckle bones jutted out. Shepard drew a breath and turned.

Nothing could have prepared her for the look on Miranda's face. The absolute devastation.

Miranda shook her head. "You're not here to tell me _that_."

Shepard extended a hand towards Miranda, but she knew better than to actually make contact. Nor were there any lies that she could offer that would change anything. Miranda continued to shake her head, lips starting to tremble.

"There's no way…no bloody way…"

"Miranda..." Shepard began quietly.

"Tell me that Ash is alive...please?"

"I..." Shepard bit her lip. "I've got answers, but not here. Not like this. We need to get back to my place."

"Why?" Miranda demanded in a hoarse voice. "Will that change what you've come to tell me? Will that make Ash any less _dead_?" The last word was uttered with a horrible emphasis. An air of finality that shattered any vestiges of Miranda's control. "Fucking hell, Shepard, stop stalling and just say it! You owe me that much."

Shepard couldn't help but wince at Miranda's use of her name in public. She fought to keep her gaze from darting around to see if passers-by were paying attention. "Not here-"

"Why is it so difficult for you to say it?" Miranda wasn't about to be placated so easily. The colour in her cheeks brightened by the second. "Is it because you feel guilty? Because you should have been there? Ash trusted you. She believed in you."

"Ash asked me to protect you-"

"For what? So I could live for this moment that we're having right now?" Miranda continued in a whisper. She shook her head. "A life without her isn't worth living."

Desperate to do something, Shepard went against her instincts. She reached out to place both hands on Miranda's shoulders in an effort to find some sort of solidity. "That's not how Ash would want you to think."

Miranda's body shuddered beneath her touch, on the cusp of surrendering. Then the moment shattered. The next thing Shepard was aware of was flying through the air. She had a brief glimpse of Miranda, wreathed in blue, before her back slammed against something hard and unyielding.

With a grunt, Shepard curled up in pain. Despite the need for urgency, she struggled to orientate herself - seeing nothing but black spots. When she finally managed to regain awareness of her surroundings, Miranda was nowhere in sight.


	46. The Offer of a Lifetime

**London, Earth**

With a satisfying sheen of sweat covering her body and her heart thumping at a steady pace, Susannah decided to push herself for the last few blocks of her run. Although she had been out pounding the streets for over an hour, her body still felt energised and her movements felt fluid. It was a perfect morning. The air was still quite crisp, but all signs indicated that it was going to be a warm day – bright blue sky and only a hint of a breeze. Not a morning for losing herself in morose thoughts.

Susannah pumped her legs faster, working even harder to sprint the last hundred metres along the featureless street – almost as though she was trying to outrun the identical box-like houses, with their sterile exteriors. She slowed to a brisk walk, finally satisfied with the burn in her chest and the ache in her legs, and checked her stats on her omni-tool. _Not bad for someone who was invalided out of the damn Navy,_ she thought with a small measure of satisfaction.

It didn't last long enough to brighten her mood, especially not when her neighbour emerged from his front door. Susannah had said hello to the man on a number of occasions, the most she'd received in return was a grunt of irritation. He didn't return her wave before setting out in the opposite direction at a brisk pace. The encounter was endemic within their community. People kept themselves sealed within their homes – insular and fearful. Other than refuse to behave in the same way, there was little that Susannah could do about it.

The only other people on the street who seemed to share the same sentiment as her and Lucy, were the Traynors. Susannah glanced across at their house. It was much too early to pay Nick and Radha a visit, but she would definitely make the effort later in the day. She worried about the couple – being so isolated, trying to make a life for themselves so far away from everything they had ever known, constantly anxious for their daughter's safety. The Traynors were two of the nicest people she had ever met and Susannah was determined to look out for them.

Her own house was quiet as she slipped inside. On any other day, Susannah would have expected to find Lucy already awake, a cheerful smile on her face as she sipped earl grey tea over the morning news. However Lucy was keeping odd hours of late – since her return from Australia a few days earlier. Susannah suspected that her wife had burnt herself out.

Evidence of Lucy's late night toil was spread across the kitchen table. Several folders were laid open. Lucy's personal computer sat at the heart of it all, long since having turned itself off. Without deliberately trying to be nosey, Susannah glanced at the material as she walked past. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a page of notes written out in Lucy's precise hand. She read the first few points and frowned, wondering if there was some sort of mistake. Eventually she gave up trying not to be intrusive and picked up the open notepad, blatantly reading it.

"Morning you." Almost as if on cue Lucy came into the room.

"Oh, hey."

Susannah turned as Lucy padded into the room in bare feet, still wearing her pyjamas, heading straight to the kettle. As Lucy busied herself with making tea, Susannah continued to read. A small frown marred her forehead.

"I didn't wake you when I came to bed did I?" Lucy asked, oblivious to the fact that Susannah was reading her notes.

"What? Oh, no. Must've been dead to the world." Susannah replied absently. She looked up from the paper, watching for a few moments as Lucy meticulously measured an amount of tea leaves into the waiting pot. Her frowned deepened and she felt a little sick to her stomach. "Luce…I thought you dumped the Alliance's latest propaganda shit from your material? You've got a whole page here on Turian atrocities during the First Contact War. Half of it sounds completely unverified."

The expression on Lucy's face didn't change. "This is the first morning we've had together in almost three weeks and you're bringing up work?"

When Susannah's reply wasn't forthcoming, Lucy set aside her teapot. She then crossed from the kitchen area to stand at Susannah's side.

"Well, I wouldn't ordinarily…but-"

"But nothing," Lucy interrupted, gently easing the notepad out of Susannah's hand. She tossed it casually down onto the table before encircling Susannah's waist and drawing her in close. "You and I are spending the entire day together. Although I'd prefer it if there was a little less talking and more kissing."

The myriad of rational points that Susannah had been preparing in her head were driven away with the first touch of her wife's lips. Soft and yet searing hot. It was enough to make her weak at the knees. She responded to Lucy's ministrations eagerly, malleable to everything – thighs being nudged apart, top rucked up over her abdomen.

It was only when Lucy started to slip a hand down the front of her shorts that Susannah found a sliver of sense. "Ah, Luce. I'm a little filthy right now," she whispered reluctantly, especially as Lucy's hand delved even further. Susannah had to bite her lip as her hips bucked forward, straining for more contact. "I should shower-"

"You're only going to get filthier," Lucy interrupted, grinning against Susannah's lips. She ran one finger the length of her wife's sex, earning a delicious shiver in response. "So why don't you shut up and let me fuck you?"

Susannah had no further protest.

* * *

 

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

Just putting one foot after the other made her want to scream. With each step, it felt like daggers were being driven into her body.

Still, Jack had a great deal of experience with pain.

It was only thanks to the large dose of painkillers she'd appropriated from the clinic that she was able to move at all. They blocked some of the pain, made her feel light-headed and sick to her stomach, but she didn't care past the fact that she was up and walking. Jack didn't care that she was probably doing some lasting kind of damage to her body.

Her concern was the sole reason that she had dragged herself out of bed. Jack had never been much for staying still for long periods of time, but lying in that bed drugged to the hilt had felt pretty fucking fantastic. This...whatever she was doing, made her feel like shit. And she sure as hell wasn't doing anything for Shepard.

Goddamn bitch was alive. Again. Jack couldn't think about that, about wanting to slam her fist into the damn woman's face for abandoning her and the Grissom Academy kids during the war. For starters, just thinking about punching something made her head hurt. Secondly, that wasn't her concern. She could deal with the whole Shepard thing at another time. Instead her concern lay solely with what Shepard had asked of her (after Jack's expletives had subsided).

_"Miranda needs your help, Jack," Shepard had asked in a firm, urgent voice._

_Jack had taken a deep gulp of water, trying to be nonchalant. There was no way in hell that she wanted anyone to know just how high she would jump for the damn Cheerleader. Especially not Shepard._

_"The Cheerleader can take care of herself. She's a big girl."_

_Shepard's expression faltered, she appeared to hover on the verge of tears for a moment before collecting herself together. Jack was still angry at the bitch for the whole being alive thing, but she did manage to feel guilty. Although being observant wasn't something Jack prided herself on, even she could tell that some serious shit had gone down._

_"Fuck," Jack had whispered as the obvious truth dawned. "Captain Perfect….Williams. She's dead?"_

_Shepard had only managed a taut nod in response. Jack had felt sick to her stomach._

That same nausea had only intensified as time passed, to the point where Jack felt like a shadow of her former self. _Yeah, as if dragging myself from my fucking death bed wasn't already bad enough_ , she thought. _Someone decided that I was the best person for this little job_.

The Cheerleader was standing in the distance. They were in some shitty little corner of Omega. Quiet, away from any foot traffic. Made remarkable only by its spectacular outlook over the busy docks down below. Though it was taxing, Jack made her shuffling footsteps deliberately loud as she approached. Her breath stopped in her throat as she drew nearer, realising just how close Miranda was to the edge. A gentle nudge would be it all took. Jack swallowed, wishing she'd had the foresight to nick some alcohol from somewhere before agreeing to be a part of this.

If someone had told her that one day she'd be the one to talk the Cheerleader off a ledge, Jack would have told that person to go fuck themselves. A part of her still wished she'd done that when Shepard had asked her. Then it wouldn't be on her conscience if the whole thing went tits up. Still things changed. There was a time when Jack would also have been the person readily giving Miranda the final push.

A hell of a lot had changed since then. Jack felt no shame in admitting to herself that she didn't want Miranda to jump.

"I'm sorry for losing control earlier, Shepard," Miranda suddenly said in a calm, clear voice. "But I don't want you here."

"Yeah...I'm not Shepard. Sorry to disappoint." Heights had never really bothered Jack, but as she joined Miranda she felt her belly clench in fear. It was a hell of a long way down. If you didn't hit something solid on the way, you'd just keep falling. Nevertheless, Jack drove herself to stand at Miranda's side - the toes of her boots almost jutting out into nothingness. "You can't tell me to do shit."

That earned a reaction. Miranda turned and looked at her, face creasing with alarm. "Jack…what the hell? You shouldn't even be out of bed!"

"You can blame yourself for that, Cheerleader." Jack discovered that it was easier to keep her eyes on Miranda. What surprised her the most was the lack of emotion on Miranda's face. "When I get told that some idiot is standing on a ledge it's not like I can just sit around and let it happen."

"Let what happen?" Miranda replied derisively. She went back to staring at the view. "You think I want to kill myself? There's nothing that could happen to make me place so little worth on my own life."

"Bullshit." Jack wasn't buying it, not even for a moment. "You can't tell me you're not standing here because you're seriously contemplating ending everything…your pain, how desperately alone you feel without her? Wishing you'd never let her get close in the first place."

"Fuck you, Jack." That hit a nerve.

"I'm going to stand on this damn ledge as long as you do. Hell, might as well throw myself off while I'm here." Jack was determined to push as many buttons as she could. And as quickly as she could. Just the act of standing was exhausting enough. She could already feel her body growing heavy. "It's not as though I've got anything to live for."

"We're not standing here playing this game," Miranda replied, turning her head to look at Jack. However there was a slight twinge of anxiety visible behind the disdain. "You need to get back to the clinic. How the hell did you even get out of bed?"

"Sheer bloody-mindedness." Jack had to wonder just how long that would keep her going. She desperately wanted to lie down before she fell over. "Much the same thing that's keeping you from admitting that you're being a dickhead over this whole thing."

"A dickhead? Really? How astute."

"How are you not being a dickhead? You're standing on a ledge. You're refusing to speak to the people that care about you. Refusing to admit just how broken you are and ask for help. And to top it all off you're going to get me killed as well. Dickhead."

"Step away from the damn ledge then."

Miranda's voice was tight, as though she was struggling to maintain control. Having never done anything of the sort before, Jack didn't know how far she could continue to push before Miranda snapped. She could feel sweat starting to bead at her temples. She didn't know which was more exhausting – simply standing or trying to talk to someone who wouldn't listen.

"Nope, not happening. Like I said, I've got nothing to live for remember? And I'm certainly not going to hang around to pick up the pieces after you kill yourself." Jack offered up a nonchalant shrug as she watched Miranda's lips part slightly. "I don't really give a fuck about Shepard – bitch didn't help me. Although losing you straight after Ashley? That shit isn't going to go down well. Don't see how she's gonna save the Galaxy again after that. Probably nothing compared to how Ashley's surviving sisters will feel though. Can't remember their names…"

There was silence as Jack's voice trailed off. Gradually the silence was filled with the distant sounds of life – the rhythmic hum of machinery, the drone of ships manoeuvring around the docks below. It was almost loud enough to block out Miranda's voice as she filled in the blanks.

"Abby and Lynn."

Jack shook her head. "Don't see why you're bothering to remember their names. Since you clearly don't give a shit."

Miranda let out a sound – half-ragged breath, half-sob. "No…that's not true!" Her voice caught for a moment. She swallowed. "I care too much. Why the hell did I let myself invest everything in a relationship?"

"Because you loved her," Jack replied simply.

Miranda smiled sadly. "And look where that has led me. Fucking pathetic."

"It's pathetic that you spent time with a woman who loved you?" Jack demanded. She was definitely growing tired of this shit, in every possible way. Something told her she needed to take a step back, but she didn't trust her balance enough to be able to take a step in any direction. "That you have those memories? You're standing there telling me that you'd just throw them all away given the opportunity? Well fuck you, Cheerleader. And I'm damn sure that Williams would be pleased to know just how little she meant to you!"

Finally something snapped. Miranda turned, facing Jack. The façade had cracked altogether, laying bare the raw pain. "Ash meant everything to me! I don't want this!" She pointed at herself, tears streaming openly down her face, clearly struggling not to simply fall apart all together. "I don't want to live with this pain. I can't."

As Jack was trying not to admit to herself that Miranda's devastation made her feel like shit, her left knee suddenly buckled beneath her. Everything unfolded in slow motion. An odd feeling of being completely weightless. The relief of finally being able to relax. Then her peace was cruelly shattered in one violent motion. A wall of blue hit her, sending her flying backwards. Jack cried out as her frail body slammed against the ground with Miranda falling atop her.

Jack lay motionless on her back, trying to ascertain whether everything still worked properly. She came to the conclusion that, as long as Miranda was safely away from the ledge, she really didn't care.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" Miranda was leaning over her, concern written all over her face. "I can't lose you too."

"You were ready to kill yourself, so I don't see why you care," Jack muttered.

She closed her eyes. The ground was as good a place as any to go back to sleep. As exhausted as she was, it was impossible to find any sort of peace. Jack cocked one eye open, feeling the need to watch Miranda, to ensure that any thoughts of doing something drastic had well and truly passed.

Miranda sat hugging her knees to her chest, once again staring out at the view. This time however she wasn't making any effort to conceal how she felt. Tears streamed down her face.

"Miranda." The name felt strange on her tongue. Jack couldn't remember the last time she'd used it. Had she ever? "You'll get through this."

"How?"

Although it was the last thing she wanted to do, Jack managed to drag herself up into a sitting position. Miranda was staring at her intently. Jack found it decidedly unnerving that someone was asking her such weighty questions, as though her opinion mattered. Still, this was one area where Jack had a considerable amount of experience. "By using your pain, channelling it. We have a name. A Batarian. The bastard is probably just one part of the picture but I promise you we'll hunt him down, him and anyone else we can find. One by One. And they'll fucking pay."

"Together?" Miranda asked as she scrubbed roughly at her damp cheeks. Her eyes had already gone dark and hard.

Jack nodded tautly. "Too fucking right."

* * *

 

"Evie, sweetheart, please don't take this the wrong way but you look like absolute shit."

While Shepard stopped short of smiling, she did nod in agreement. For the first time in recent memory, she wished that Hannah Shepard wasn't merely on the other end of a quantum communication. She'd spent most of her life pushing her mother away, now all she wanted was for her to be within reach of an embrace.

"I feel like shit, Mum," was the honest reply.

The events of the past week had served to remind her that her recovery had been far from complete when she'd decided to lead the attack on Mindoir. Muscle memory had returned effortlessly enough at the time, now those same muscles protested with every movement. What she needed desperately, was more time to recover, time to plan. Now that their opponents were slowly starting to reveal their hands, Shepard wanted to be able to take stock of her own. _Or build a better one,_ she thought determinedly.

Her legs ached and she irritably wondered why Liara didn't think to have a chair nearby.

"I know just how much Captain Williams meant to you, but you promise me that you're not going to go charging off on some fool-brained errand. Especially if the point of these attacks was to draw you out of hiding."

Shepard folded her arms across her chest. "That's still just speculation, but I wouldn't worry if I were you. Liara is of the same opinion, which means I'm not going anywhere other than straight to Thessia."

"You'll be safe there." Hannah's nod was a satisfied one.

"Safe enough. Whether or not I'll get the support I need is another question. The asari were slow to trust during the War, I'm expecting much of the same...especially when I don't even know what I'm asking of them. What am I asking of any of us?"

"No less than you're asking of yourself."

"I'm ex-military. I've taken risks most of my life. What about others? Abby and Lynn Williams?" Shepard closed her eyes for a moment. That was one conversation she neither wanted to remember, nor wanted to forget. And she had simply listened while Miranda had done all the talking. "We're asking them to continue life as normal when they've just found out that two of their sisters are dead."

"The list of those killed and missing in action across the five colonies was released to all major news outlets thirty minutes ago," Hannah explained. "Sarah Williams was on the Chasca list...Ashley was not. No mention, not a word across any channels, covert or otherwise. Anderson has people watching Lynn and Abby for the time being, if we need to pull them out then we will."

Shepard nodded. "Thank you. I know that will mean a great deal to Miranda."

"It's the least we can do," Hannah replied emphatically. "How is Ms Lawson faring?"

"To tell the truth…I don't know. On the surface she appears to be coping a little too well, but I only need to look at her to know that she's not herself."

"Should she be?" Hannah responded quietly. "Are you? When I lost your father, everything changed. And I made the mistake of losing sight of who I was altogether. I only wish that you could have met that woman, Evie. I think you would have liked her."

Shepard bit her lip, turning away from the screen for a moment. All the years of hating Hannah for who she was, all of it seemed like wasted time for both of them. In the wake of losing a husband and a father, they'd both been hell bent on pushing each other away. "I am getting to know her, Mum. I just wish the circumstances were different." Shepard look at Hannah, studying her mother's face, marvelling at just how similar they were. "I don't know if I can be the person that I need to be. This 'Shepard.' When Ash was alive I felt as though I could, safe in the knowledge that she'd always be there to ground me so I wouldn't lose myself. I know I have Liara, and I love her more than life itself, but…I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"You think that Liara would want you to become someone you're not?"

"She will do anything to achieve peace. I think maybe that includes pushing me to be this figurehead. A leader."

Shepard looked over her shoulder, feeling guilty for even giving voice to such a thought. However Liara had fallen into an exhausted sleep only an hour earlier. She was alone in the comms room.

"Why are you even fighting?" Hannah asked bluntly.

"What?" Shepard blinked. She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You have the means to leave all of this behind you. To turn your back on the Alliance's stupidity and find somewhere quiet to live out your life in peace, to raise a family who will only know you as their parent and not as this figurehead."

"That's not an option." The reply was quick, vehement.

Hannah shrugged. "Why not?"

"I…" Shepard was about to say 'I don't know' as a defence mechanism when she found the answer on her lips. "Because it's who I am. Not who I was born to be but who I was made to be. The Alliance…Cerberus…the Catalyst, they've all shaped me but ultimately it's my choice who…or what I become. Liara said I was the architect of fate. Ash believed in me. I need to start believing in myself."

"The architect of fate huh?" Hannah smiled sadly. "I remember a kid who used to skip classes more often than she was in them. Guess you turned out alright after all."

"The jury's still out on that one. Thanks, Mum. Despite the circumstances, this has been…nice."

"I know it won't be easy to find time, but promise me we'll do this more often?"

Shepard offered up a determined nod. "That's a promise I hope to keep. I'll check in when I get to Thessia."

When the call ended, Shepard made no move away from the console. She simply bowed her head, asking herself whether those words really had left her lips. Was she ready to become 'the Shepard?'

_Ash believed in me,_ the thought repeated in Shepard's head. _I need to start believing in myself._

* * *

 

Cold air slammed into Myke's sweat covered body the moment she sat up. A shout was cut short before it could leave her lips.

As her heart raced, she turned to check on Sam. Her lover stirred slightly, murmuring something in her sleep. Otherwise Sam remained peaceful, exactly as she needed to be.

Myke rose from the bed, feeling slightly guilty for leaving Sam alone, but she desperately needed to escape the confines of her apartment and stretch her legs.

After throwing on some clothes, Myke exited her apartment and gratefully immersed herself in the comforting blanket that was Omega. Although she had been home for several days, the chaos surrounding that homecoming had made it difficult to appreciate anything other than simply being.

She and Sam had spent most of their time holed up in her apartment. Trying to sleep in between nightmares. Alternating between making love to one another slowly and fucking as though they had no time at all. Celebrating the fact that they were still alive. Sometimes they tried to talk, but neither could make much sense of what had happened. Mostly Sam ended up sharing humorous anecdotes about Ashley in an effort to make them both laugh. Sometimes it worked.

It felt good to walk. Myke made no attempt to hurry. She had no real destination in mind other than to soak it all in – every last hideous scent, every last pile of rotting garbage. Unlike the pale expanse of sky on Chasca, Omega's scarified, artificial fabric felt like home.

It was ridiculous. Her entire life, she'd wanted nothing more than to leave the place. Omega had always felt like a prison, stifling her potential, her hopes and dreams.

Yet Omega made sense. Myke knew her place. No one expected anything of her.

It was her world, in a way that the world that Sam inhabited could never be.

Myke chose to keep to the busier thoroughfares instead of returning to her old haunt overlooking the docks. After the past few days, she needed to be surrounded by life…or at least enough noise that it resembled life. She soaked up fragments of conversation as she walked – easily the most reliable source of news of Omega.

Scattered amongst the conversations were frequent references to 'the humans in the Fumi District.' Most mentions were accompanied by open hostility. It was Omega after all, most new developments attracted hostility – especially if residents couldn't see any benefit in them.

Without really thinking too much about what she was doing, Myke took a taxi to Fumi to see for herself.

Before the Cerberus occupation, it was a district she had never had any cause to spend much time in. It had been home to some of Omega's more affluent citizens. The private security guards had always taken their jobs very seriously, chasing away anyone who looked as though they didn't belong.

Fumi now looked almost entirely different. Myke had never seen so many humans in one place – at least on Omega. And they didn't behave like Omegans. Instead they gathered in the street over communal pots of food and talked in groups. An open, familial way of life that seemed foreign to Myke. Children scurried about, kicking a small round ball between them in some form of game. The ball skidded across the surface, coming to a stop near Myke's feet. Slightly unsure of what to do with it, she poked it with her toe, sending it rolling back towards the group of kids. When she expected them to be wary and keep their distance, they surprised her by running towards her. Myke found herself surrounded by a small sea of human kids, all grinning up at her without fear.

"Can you tell stories as good as Samara?" one asked.

_Are we talking about the same Samara?_ Myke asked herself. "Um, I don't really know any." She doubted that the terrifying stories her mother used to tell her were appropriate. "Where are you all from?"

"Mindoir!" came the answer, several voices joined to make a chorus. "Mindoir! Mindoir!"

"We're guests of the Queen!" another added as the first voice died down.

Myke stared at the grinning faces with an astonished expression. Clearly none of them had actually met the Queen of Omega. Nothing made sense anymore. The kids continued talking to her, a barrage of questions and comments. Mostly asking where Samara was or whether could she show them her biotics.

One small girl tugged at her hand. "Will you stay and play with us?"

"Well I don't really know how," Myke replied, crouching down to the girl's eye level. "But if I promise to come back, will you teach me?"

The question was followed by an enthusiastic nod, and several others joined in their assent.

Myke left them reluctantly. The game resumed behind her amid shouts and laughter. Exactly what she needed. However in that moment, she had somewhere else she needed to be.

She didn't let it cross her mind during the taxi ride back, nor did she think much of anything as she took the stairs two at a time up to Aria's sanctuary. It was only as she paused on the first landing, did she stop to think what had happened the last time she had confronted Aria. Her anger drove her the last few steps. It also kept her from shrieking in fear as Aria brought her gaze to bear - eyes narrowed, sardonic smile fixed.

"What the hell are you doing with all of those humans from Mindoir?" Myke demanded, ignoring the surprised looks from Aria's sycophants."

The smile slipped. Aria was scowling when she jerked her chin abruptly – the signal for her followers to make themselves scarce. This time around, Myke wasn't about to turn into a quivering wreck as Aria stood and walked towards her. She stood her ground, meeting Aria's gaze with a determined one of her own.

"Again you come into my space and make demands of me," Aria said in a cool voice. "Your lack of respect is very dangerous…some might even say life-threatening."

"I won't play your games, Aria. Why are they here?"

"It was not safe for them to remain on their home world," Aria replied with a small shrug, as though it was entirely inconsequential. "I had safe harbour to offer. What would you have had me do, leave them to their fate? Beyond that, I do not have to explain myself to you, much as you did not seek my permission before leaving Omega and going into combat with the _Normandy_." Aria's tone changed slightly as she continued. There was an underlying emotion, but Myke could not recognise it. "You have no biotics, no combat training whatsoever. You could have had your fool head blown off."

"And you would have cared? You murdered your own lover…my mother. I've never seen you give a fuck about anything other than your precious empire." Myke extended her arms, gesturing to the club around her. "Surely me being dead would be a good thing."

The expression on Aria's face changed – twisting, grimacing. In a way the Queen of Omega became even angrier, but it was a more focused anger. At the back of Myke's head a voice told her that she ought to be terrified, but she'd gone too far to care about such things.

Aria's vice-like grip wrapped around her upper arm. Myke found herself dragged in close – far too close to Aria for comfort. Somehow she managed to keep the fear at bay.

"Do you really want to know the last card your _mother_ -" Aria spat the word out as though it was a foul taste in her mouth. "-played before I was forced to kill her? She threatened to kill _you_."

As the words sank in, Myke was unable to reply with anything more coherent than a shake of her head. She didn't believe Aria of course, but the words themselves held weight.

"Don't stand there and shake your head at me like some insipid infant. You spent enough time with Leda to know exactly what she was capable of."

Myke couldn't stop shaking her head. "The last time we spoke…you said you didn't give a fuck about me."

Aria relinquished her hold. She took a step back and folded her arms across her chest. If anything, she appeared slightly awkward. "Well I fucking lied didn't I. So don't stand there and question my motives."

With that last sentence hanging in the air between them, Aria turned her back on Myke and crossed to the view overlooking the dance floor down below. Myke remained standing, wondering whether she had been dismissed. She still hadn't received the answer that she had come looking for. Although securing the safety of the refugees was important, Aria's revelation had come like a slap to the face.

Aria looked over her shoulder - not quite looking at Myke, but towards her. "I am capable of acting magnanimously." Omega's Queen then turned back to survey everything that lay below. "Afterlife was where it all began," she murmured. "First the club…then all of Omega. From nothing to everything."

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because I'm giving it to you," Aria announced simply. "Afterlife that is, not Omega."

"You're giving me Afterlife?"

Myke had to repeat the words aloud. Part of her expected Aria to suddenly burst out laughing, as though the offer was merely some sort of joke. However almost half a minute passed where Myke simply stared in shock and Aria's facial expression didn't change. Nothing made sense anymore.

An invisible force compelled Myke to join Aria at the edge of the balcony. Without realising that she was mimicking Aria's favourite pose, Myke placed her hands on the railing. A delicious shiver ran down her spine with the thought that everything down below could be hers.

She remembered hiding in dark corners of the club to avoid being thrown out by one of the bouncers, lacking the credits to do anything other than simply watch the vibrancy that unfolded around her. It was in Afterlife that she'd first seen Commander Shepard. Myke knew from simply looking, that Shepard was _someone_ in a way that she never would be, nor wanted to be.

Then Myke's imagination ran away with her. The offer was everything she had ever dreamed of. She would be _someone_. Even if Aria stopped short of making her identity known, she would be set for life – all the maidens and credits she could ever want. And she would finally belong.

The whole thought process lasted only a matter of seconds. It was everything she had ever dreamed of…once. No longer. Owning Afterlife, remaining on Omega, Myke knew she'd be tied to Aria T'Loak for the rest of her life. Despite the words emerging from her mouth, Aria would never stop being utterly ruthless in the pursuit of power. Today the offer of Afterlife, tomorrow the kill order.

And Myke no longer knew what she wanted in life. At least not beyond wanting to be with Sam. However she had no idea how to make that a reality. Not with the future so uncertain.

The only certainty was that she didn't want Afterlife.

"I'm not expecting a thank you by the way," Aria filled the silence. "But I do expect that this will keep you from involving yourself in affairs where you don't belong. Leave saving the Galaxy to Shepard and her fool friends."

Myke turned to look at Aria, finally realising what this was all about.

"You think giving me Afterlife will keep me safe?" Myke asked, still unable to shake off the tones of disbelief in her voice.

Aria scowled. "Did I fucking say that? I'm giving it to you because I've got better things to do with my time. I will not offer you this opportunity a second time."

Myke pushed herself away from the rail, taking a decisive step backwards. "Well I _am_ going to say thank you…but I don't want Afterlife. And you don't need to keep me on a leash. I can make my own decisions."

"What decisions?" Aria demanded in a low voice. "You would choose your pathetic little human lover over me? She will get you killed. Shepard will get you killed."

"I may have also chosen to love a human, but I'm not Liselle," Myke said quietly, preparing to leave. She backed away from Aria, half-expecting any moment to be her last. Not being able to read Aria's expression, she didn't know whether mentioning her sister's name had been an awful mistake or not. "I didn't expect you to protect the colonists, but now I think I know why you did."

There was only an uncharacteristic silence in the wake of Myke's statement, soon completely overwhelmed by Afterlife's incessant soundtrack.

The half-expected outburst never materialised and, as Myke made it back to the main floor, she was left asking herself whether the conversation ever took place.

* * *

 

**SSV _Tai-Shan,_ Sol**

It had been almost four days since the events on Chasca, yet every time Alves looked at her hands she still saw the blood of the young woman she'd been forced to kill. She'd managed only a few hours of sleep since, preferring to go without rather than see the hope drain from Sarah Williams' eyes again. Her sole means of consolation was reminding herself that there had been no other choice.

"Ma'am? Captain Alves?"

Alves looked up from the meal she had absently been pushing around on her plate. From the panicked expression on the young Yeoman's face, she knew her expression must have looked as hostile as she felt.

"Err…Fleet Admiral Kessler is ready to see you, ma'am."

She snorted. "He keeps me waiting for six hours and now he's ready to see me? I'm eating my damn lunch. You can tell him I'll see him when I'm fucking ready."

"Um, he said you'd say that and he also said to say that it's not a request, it's an order."

Alves threw her fork down into the goop that the Navy tried to pass off as food. She ignored the bright red sauce that splattered across the table and rose to her feet. The Yeoman actually took a step backwards as she stormed past.

The _Tai-Shan_ was a soulless vessel. Alves hated spending any length of time on board. The vessel was too big, too many faceless naval personnel all thinking that their job was the most important one in the Navy. She preferred the intimacy of a frigate – where she knew everyone's name and no one could avoid pulling their weight.

Still, a part of her did admire the efficiency of the well-oiled machine. As much as she hated it, the _Tai-Shan_ was the perfect reminder of the Alliance's might. In the wake of the Reaper War, while the other races had been busy weeping over the lost, humanity had risen stronger than before. Sacrifices had to be made – including that of Sarah Williams. It didn't make what she'd had to do any easier, but it gave her a purpose.

Kessler was lounging on one of the sofas in his quarters, looking immensely pleased with himself as she entered. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to launch herself at the bastard and pound her fist into his smug face. While she managed not to do that, she saw no need to restrain herself when opening her mouth.

"What the hell happened on Chasca?" she demanded. "I get ordered to respond to the attack because of the Williams connection only to find myself on the receiving end of a complete and utter balls up. Your damn lapdog is responsible for Ashley Williams' death. Where the hell does that leave us?"

"I must admit I'm surprised to find you upset over Williams' death. I thought you didn't care for her type?"

"What type? The vomit-inducing, straight-laced, 'married to the corps' type? I can't say I do, but I personally had nothing against Williams. And unfortunately her type is good for our image."

Kessler nodded. "In a way that the Butcher of Torfan isn't."

"Fuck you, Kessler." Alves scowled.

He smirked. "After all I've done for you, 'fuck you' is the only thanks I get?"

"What exactly have you done for me other than fuck my whore of a mother thirty-five years ago? Or should I be grateful for you packing her off to Mindoir in order to get her and her pregnancy out of the way of your rise through the ranks?" Alves asked, silently offering up thanks that she barely resembled Kessler. "Since that worked out so well for us."

Kessler rose to his feet in a surprisingly swift movement. As he advanced towards her, Alves wondered if she'd pushed too many buttons for one conversation.

"Everything you are is because of me! You should be rotting in a military prison after what you did on Torfan. Instead you're a decorated marine and one of only a handful of individuals I've entrusted with our plans moving forward." He straightened slightly, calming himself before continuing. "I need you with me on this Cristiane, but if you jeopardise everything that we've work for-"

Alves held up her hands in surrender. Kessler's daughter or not, she knew she was treading on thin ice. "I'm behind this. One hundred percent." She ducked her head slightly, hating to show any sign of weakness in front of him. "Chasca…it wasn't easy. Even for someone like me. Sarah Williams was just a kid."

Kessler placed a hand on her shoulder. For a moment at least, it felt almost familial. "Her sacrifice wasn't in vain. Across Alliance space, kids just like her are enlisting in droves. Recruitment is up almost fifty percent, postponing our plans for introducing conscription. Support for the Alliance in general has skyrocketed. Everything is falling into place, beyond our expectations."

"Aside from the whole Ashley Williams situation of course. If this is going to continue to work, you need to keep your lapdog on a shorter leash."

"I wear no leash."

The four words carried within them an unspoken magnitude of hate and pride. Alves schooled her expression into an impassive mask as she turned to face the individual who had just walked into the room.

_Varek Kor'Amon._

The Batarian clearly made no effort to hide his own reaction to her presence. All four of his eyes were narrowed in her direction. All four eyes indicating exactly what he thought of her without the need for a further word.

Alves didn't care about his posturing. She only cared about Varek Kor'Amon's usefulness. Beyond that, he was just another stinking Batarian. As disgusting as the rest of his kind…and as expendable.

"Kor'Amon." It was a terse greeting.

"Butcher." He practically spat the word out.

"There was a plan," Alves said coldly, refusing to be intimidated. "You deviated from it."

A cruel grin spread across his face. Or at least she thought it was a grin. "You expected my men to simply stand back while the _Normandy_ itself sat there like a fat prize ready for the taking? Unfortunate that they were unable to catch you in the crossfire."

Alves surged forward. "You four-eyed cunt, I'm going to-"

"Right, now that the pleasantries are over," Kessler interrupted, stepping between the two of them. "Shall we get down to business? With everything going so well, it would be a shame to ruin our plans simply because the two of you don't get along." Kessler regarded Varek Kor'Amon with a level expression. "I regret the escape of the _Normandy_ , but surely you agree the far bigger prize is Shepard?"

"The day I have her head on a spike will be a great day," Kor'Amon agreed. "But do not misunderstand me, Kessler. The Batarian people will not merely be appeased with vengeance. We will have what we were promised."

Kessler offered up a conciliatory smile in response. "And I will keep that promise, my friend. As soon as we achieve our goals, Mindoir will become part of the Batarian Hegemony."

Despite the fact that she knew her father's smile was forced, Alves felt sick to her stomach.

She wondered how much more humanity would have to compromise before their final victory.

* * *

 

A/N: This was the penultimate chapter of AoF. This was never a story about wrapping up plots and arriving at a glorious conclusion. It was always planned as a bridge between the 'canon' events of Catalyst of Fate and the new world order in Daughter of Fate (kind of like how Empire Strikes Back fit in the original Star Wars Trilogy). Thank you for sticking with me so far and I really look forward to sharing the last two chapters with you.

 


	47. Architect of Fate

**Omega, Sahrabarik**

Her fingers traced the bevelled edge of the small band. It was hard beneath her touch. Tangible.

Miranda repeated the motion, swiping her finger back and forth repeatedly. Incessantly. She'd long since lost track of how long she had been sitting, simply running her finger over the ring. Her only hints as to the passage of time were her numb backside and the fact that her eyes had adjusted to the absence of light within the Nest. From where she sat, folded into the corner beside the bed, Miranda could pick out every detail in the darkness.

The ability to see everything was hardly necessary. History had conspired to ensure that Miranda knew the Nest well. First Shepard, then Ashley. The lives of the _Normandy's_ two Captains had become intimately entwined with her own. It was an unwanted and cruel twist of fate that the quarters now belonged to her.

Shepard's detritus she could live with, Ashley's belongings were another matter altogether. Aside from the cold, purpose like weapons rack that had been installed in place of the fish tank, the stuff was just that - stuff. Clothes, data pads, empty coffee cups - everything could be removed with little effort. For the sake of her sanity, Miranda knew it needed to happen. Yet she couldn't bring herself to clear away even a single cup. It would happen eventually. When Ashley's smell no longer lingered on the clothes. When Miranda finally came to her senses and accepted that her behaviour wasn't healthy. Until that time came, every last bit of stuff would remain exactly where Ashley had left it.

"I am sorry to interrupt, Captain."

EDI's interruption was a gentle one, but Miranda jumped nevertheless. She recovered her composure almost instantly. The AI's voice reminded her that she had been ignoring responsibility for long enough. It was time.

Her limbs were stiff from sitting on the floor for too long, but she rose swiftly to her feet. The ring she squeezed in her palm for one long moment, long enough and hard enough for it to leave an indentation in her palm.

"I'm not a bloody captain." She'd done nothing to earn the title. She wasn't even in charge. Not really. "Miranda will suffice."

"Understood, Miranda. You wanted to know when our departure preparations were complete-"

"Let the crew know we're shipping out at 0900." Miranda interrupted swiftly. Now that their departure was imminent, she felt a massive weight lifted from her shoulders. She needed to leave this place, and the memories that it held, behind her. "And EDI? Also inform them that anyone late for departure will be left on Omega."

"Affirmative. You also have a visitor."

"I don't have time-" Miranda began in an irritated voice.

"Shepard is waiting in the corridor outside." It was EDI's turn to interrupt, a perk of self-awareness. "I judged the probability of you wanting to see her at seventy-five percent. If my calculations were incorrect, I must apologise."

"No, you're not wrong. Thank you, EDI. I'll take it from here."

Miranda crossed to the door herself. Palming it open she found Shepard leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor, arms folded across her chest, neutral expression on her face. It made a welcome change from seeing a constant parade of sympathetic faces – all well-meaning, but irritating with their earnest need to ensure that she was alright. Unlike the others, Shepard understood.

"I supposed you want me to invite you in?"

Shepard was unperturbed by Miranda's curt tone. "Not necessarily. You've got a lot to do, I'm more than happy to walk with you."

While the offer would serve a purpose, Miranda knew she wouldn't be able to face saying goodbye to Shepard in public. She stepped aside and ushered the other woman into the Nest. Neither made any attempt to get comfortable. Shepard moved to study the rack of assault rifles where her fish tank had once been, instinctively drawn to the Black Widow at the centre. Miranda watched, without making any interjection. She'd taken Ashley's sniper rifle from the armoury days ago. It hurt to look at it, but at the same time she couldn't bear for it to be anywhere other than close to her.

"Do you mind?" Shepard asked, hand poised to take the weapon.

If it had been anyone else Miranda would have taken offence, but Shepard had just as much right to the Black Widow as she did. Upon Miranda's nod, Shepard took the sniper rifle from the rack and balanced it in her grip. The Widow extended, mechanism still flawless due to the impeccable condition in which it had been kept. Shepard tucked it against her shoulder and lifted it level. Without the assistance of a hardsuit, she was unable to hold it there for more than a few seconds.

"Fuck me, how the hell did Ash use this thing in combat?" Shepard huffed, letting it drop.

Miranda almost smiled at the comment, only Shepard's use of the past tense stopped her. It reminded her that any future mention of Ashley would be in the past tense, for the rest of their lives. She turned away, unable to look at the Widow any longer, only listening as the servos whirred and the rifle retracted into its resting state as Shepard gently placed it back in its spot.

"Everyone - the entire crew - has agreed to stay on board," Miranda commented in a business-like tone, in an effort to get her thoughts back in the right place. "And we've picked up additional personnel - including two of the survivors from the Mindoir garrison - Parker and Rousmaniere, both good marines. The others have chosen to stay with the colonists, whatever happens moving forward."

"Understandably, none of the colonists have any interest in returning to Alliance space." Shepard picked up the thread. "I think the general feeling is that the Alliance abandoned them. There's an asari colony. Nevos. It was hit hard during the War, millions of casualties. They desperately need help re-establishing their food supply. I don't know how Liara did it, but the asari government have agreed to let the colonists settle there in exchange for their help rebuilding. It looks nice, but more importantly, it's safe."

"The Alliance aren't going to be impressed when they find out." It was an understatement. Miranda knew that the asari were taking a huge risk. The story could be spun that the colonists were being held against their will. The move could play right into the Alliance's hand.

Shepard's expression hardened. "It's what should have happened in the wake of the War. The Galaxy working together to rebuild. Instead Kessler and his cronies have pitted former allies against one another. If the Alliance have a problem with it, they can take matters up with me."

"You can't risk that, Shepard."

Shepard shook her head. "My time in hiding is almost up, Miranda, and I'm not sure I care. Four months ago I wouldn't have risked it - physically I couldn't have - but now, well, it's time to make good on all the second chances I've been given. I wish you'd reconsider your path, no one is asking you to go after Varek Kor'Amon immediately."

Miranda turned back to face Shepard. "You're withdrawing your support?"

"Absolutely not. This is your decision, Liara and I are behind you. You'll have the resources of the Shadow Broker backing you up. I just want to make sure you've thought this through."

Because Liara _was_ the Shadow Broker. Miranda was still struggling to wrap her head around that revelation. And, if she was being honest with herself, she was a little angry that her friends had not thought to let her in on the secret earlier. Still, she had no desire to give any time over to such thoughts. She had enough hate in her heart already without starting on her own family.

"I have. And I'm not changing my mind." Miranda held up her hand, fingers curling outward to reveal the ring lying at the centre, nestled neatly in the indentation the pressure of her grip had made. "I don't want to assume what this ring meant for Ashley and I, even though a part of me desperately wants to know." She'd already wasted too many nights, curled up, clutching the ring and trying to dream of that future. A future that would never happen. "But I know what I meant to her, and that gives me all the impetus I need to see this through."

"This isn't goodbye, Miranda." Shepard said as she stepped forward, reaching out to take Miranda's hand and gently fold her fingers back over the ring. She then drew her into a fierce, unrestrained hug. "But it is good luck."

Closing her eyes, Miranda drew in a deep breath as she pressed hand and fist against Shepard's back. For just a minute or so, she let everything go and surrendered to the moment. Eventually she would have to take a step back and everything would come flooding back.

"We both know what Ash's intentions were. She loved you without reservation," Shepard whispered, pressing one hand against the back of Miranda's head in a level of intimacy the two of them had not shared for a long time.

_Just a moment more_. Miranda's body relaxed into the embrace and her defences dropped to the point where tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, even as she fought against them. "And I would have said _yes_."

BREAK

The _Normandy's_ preparation for departure had been accompanied by the usual hive of activity, but throughout Sam had sensed a distinct undercurrent of despondency about the whole operation. Even now, as she stood staring at the _Normandy's_ hull, she felt none of the usual excitement that preceded combat. No sense of relief at their imminent departure from the shithole that was Omega. Sam couldn't speak for the rest of the crew, but she felt a palpable loss. In leaving, she would finally have to acknowledge the latest change in direction her life had taken. She was shipping out, but no longer as a marine. In fact, Sam wasn't entirely sure what she was. Freelancer? Privateer? Pirate? Not to mention the fact that she was shipping out without her Captain. Instead Sam would be serving under two women, both of whom terrified her for different reasons. Their mission was largely undefined and - with half of the Galaxy hunting them - highly likely to end in disaster.

Sam's one consolation was that Myke would be at her side. That fact made her fears recede.

"Sam!"

She hardly needed to look to its source to identify the voice. A smile crossed her face as she did, however it faltered almost immediately when she found that Myke wasn't carrying a bag, just her leather jacket slung across her shoulder.

"Hey." The simple word sounded hollow. "I've heard of travelling light, but you're taking things to a whole new level." Sam searched Myke's face for some sense that everything was going to plan, but she found nothing to give her hope. "Please tell me you're still leaving."

"I am leaving," Myke replied, her voice catching. "Just not on the _Normandy_."

Sam felt the first stirrings of anger. "Where the hell are you going then?"

"Nevos. With Samara. Escorting the colonists. Then we're joining Shepard on Thessia." The words tumbled out quickly before Myke was able to pause and draw a breath. "Sam, this isn't about us."

"It is bloody well about us!" Sam snapped, feeling some sense of satisfaction as Myke's expression crumpled. "We decided to leave on the _Normandy_. Together. We're supposed to be shipping out in an hour and you've chosen now to tell me that you've made other plans? Plans that don't involve me!"

When she looked around, Sam realised that her outburst had drawn the attention of everyone within a certain radius. She bit her lip, willing to consider how ridiculous she was being. Just for a moment. Their relationship was a little over a month old, yet she was acting as though she had some long-term claim to Myke's affections. Clearly she had made incorrect assumptions regarding their future together, ones that weren't reciprocated. Sam felt like an idiot.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, turning to leave. "Have a safe trip."

Fingers dug into her arm in a desperate grip. "Sam, please hear me out?"

Reluctantly, Sam allowed herself to be stopped and turned. However she stubbornly persisted in staring at her feet, unwilling to meet Myke's gaze. A gentle finger beneath her chin ruined that plan. Sam's knees almost buckled at the touch. Myke's eyes seemed to be liquid, her lips parted slightly.

"Stop that," Sam whispered in a determined voice.

Myke frowned in confusion. "Stop what?"

Sam sighed. "Making me want to kiss you."

The asari's frown deepened. She shook her head. "I'm not-"

"You don't need to do anything," Sam interrupted.

Out of some ridiculous notion of pride, she tried to compose herself. If she could hold herself together for a few more moments, then she could walk away with her dignity intact. Several deep breaths later, Sam felt as though she could see everything with some sort of clarity. With what was to come, separating was the best course of action. However she unravelled slightly when she made the mistake of reaching up to touch Myke's cheek in a parting gesture. For some irritating reason, her fingers wouldn't stop trembling. As she went to withdraw, Myke's hand darted up to stop her. Sam's hand was effectively trapped against Myke's cheek.

"This isn't goodbye," Myke explained. "Not for good. Just for now. There are things I need to do, to find out. I know this is terrible timing, at the moment that I find someone like you...but I've spent my life as an outsider. I don't know what it means to be asari, or if I even want to know, but I do know that I need to go to Thessia with Evan and Liara. Do you understand?"

"No." Nevertheless, the sensation in Sam's stomach felt suspiciously like hope. "And yes. I'm not bloody happy about it, but if this is what you need to do, then I'm not about to stop you."

"You'll wait for me?"

Sam swiped her thumb against Myke's cheek. "Depends how long it takes. I don't think I'll hang around for a couple of centuries, but yes, I'll wait. I'm kind of crazy about you after all."

Fighting against a grin, Myke let her hand fall. In one movement, she swept the jacket she'd been holding over Sam's shoulders. Sam's disbelieving stare was cut short when Myke grabbed her by the collar and tugged her in for a passionate kiss.

She was still regaining her breath a minute later, her chin propped against Myke's shoulder. "I can't take your jacket. You love this old thing."

"I insist," Myke said as she took a step back. She stroked the soft leather covering Sam's arm. "I like the thought of it being with you."

"You should be with me." Although a lingering trace of anger remained, Sam had since given in. She did not want to ruin their memories of one another with harsh words. Sam studied Myke's face intently, committing to memory the face of the individual she loved. She drew in a quiet, shuddering breath. "Find what you're looking for, then come back to me."

That irrepressible grin again, this time accompanied by an emphatic nod. "You can count on it. Just make sure you stay safe."

It was a promise Sam knew she couldn't make. As soon as the _Normandy_ left Omega, they would be on their own. No Alliance to back them up. Just the uncharted waters of vengeance. For the first time, Sam questioned her own state of mind. Miranda Lawson was still grieving. Jack Zero she only really knew via second hand anecdotes - and most of these hinted at a woman who was an unstable, violent psychopath. _What the hell am I doing?_ Sam thought whilst fighting to keep herself from giving into tears.

Just when she thought her life was already out of control, she managed to up the ante. However Sam only had to remember Ashley, those last moments on Chasca, then she was gripped with a fervour that made her doubts seem trivial. Wherever this path led, regardless of who was leading her, she'd follow it to the end.

"I promise I'll try, Myke," was the best Sam could offer in reply. "I don't suppose there's any point in telling you to do the same?"

Myke snorted disparagingly. "I'm going to be hanging out with Saint Samara, the biggest danger I'll be facing is boredom."

"Boredom is good. I'm quite happy with you being bored. It'll mean that you're safe." The humour disappeared as Sam swallowed awkwardly. "You know I love you right?"

Myke's expression softened, her lips parted in astonishment. "You do? I guess I kind of thought maybe it was too soon, that it was just me."

"Well it's not," Sam whispered as she leaned into Myke's body.

For a few glorious moments, she held on as tightly as possible, as though she was never going to let go. She fixed the memory of that moment in her mind, before pushing away decisively. Unable to utter a further word, Sam turned and walked towards the _Normandy_ , all the while clutching the jacket around her shoulders.

It wasn't until she was safely on the other side of the airlock that she dared stop to draw a breath. Realising she was trembling, Sam closed her eyes in an effort to pull herself together.

"Are you ill, Chief Traynor?"

Sam's eyes snapped open to find Kurin staring at her, expression conveying none of the concern implicit in her question. The commando was carrying a large bag in one hand, with another smaller one slung over her shoulder.

"No, I'm fine," Sam replied in a terse voice. She nodded towards Kurin's bag. Deflecting attention away from her before she broke down. "Are you joining us?"

Kurin looked down at the bag as though realising she was carrying it for the first time. "I…yes."

Sam waited for Kurin to say something further, but apparently the brief words were the extent of her answer - or at least as much as the asari was willing to share. Kurin's lips twitched and her expressing waivered, but the rest of the conversation remained unspoken. The potential fallout from Kurin's presence on the _Normandy_ already made Sam nervous. However it was Kurin's risk to take, not hers. And additional biotic skills would be more than welcome where they were going.

"It's good to have you on board." Sam broke the silence. "Do you have quarters?"

"I have been assigned use of something called the observation lounge."

"I'll lead the way," Sam offered.

"Thank you, Chief…and for the welcome. It was…unexpected."

"Don't mention it," Sam replied as they stepped into the elevator. The tiny space felt more claustrophobic than usual, she felt compelled to continue talking. "You'll soon come to understand something about serving on the _Normandy_ , it gets under your skin, becomes a part of you in a way that other ships don't.

Kurin stared into space for several long moments, until Sam though that no reply would come.

Eventually the commando nodded. "I'm beginning to realise that."

* * *

 

**Armali outskirts, Thessia**

At the moment that she had assumed the mantle of the Shadow Broker, Liara had no time to weigh the pros and cons of her decision. Instead it had come in the heat of the moment, accompanied by the rush of blood to her head and the rapid thump of her heartbeat. When the dust had settled and the sparks finally stopped flying, she was left with the Galaxy's most powerful information network at her fingertips. While she had always instinctively known that the responsibility had the potential to consume her, she had no exit strategy to prevent that from happening.

Part of her feared that it was already too late. Almost every waking hour was spent as a slave to the Broker network – scouring the information that had been flagged for her attention, desperate not to miss any clue that could aid them in their fight. The stakes were simply too high for her to risk giving anything other than her full attention. Nor could she afford to regret her decision. What she wanted on a personal level was inconsequential in terms of the big picture. Still, the amber light filtering through the blinds told her that early evening had arrived. Another hour or so, and Liara would have worked away all the hours of sunlight. With a concerted burst of effort, she made her way through the most urgent of the priority messages that remained flagged for her attention. Unfortunately there was still very little of significance that could be forwarded on to the _Normandy_. A month after they had left Omega, Miranda and Jack were still operating on rumours and whispers in their search for Varek Kor'Amon.

Information coming out of Sol was confusing at best. The coordinated attacks across the human colonies were reported as having been thwarted by the Alliance Navy. Any losses of life or freedom had been downplayed. Liara did not expect to find any mentions of asari involvement on Mindoir, but she had expected Ashley Williams' death to occupy the headlines. Instead the Alliance-run news outlets stated only that Captain Williams had been instrumental in the operation. Grainy footage of Ashley managing to look both pissed off and despondent at the destruction on Chasca had been all over the feeds for weeks. It wasn't faked, but rather shot during the brief window between the first and second attacks. The coverage was only just starting to die down, and further news about either the _Normandy_ or its Captain was absent from mainstream media.

While that particular mystery was one of Liara's main concerns, there were several more trivial matters that continued to occupy her time. A week earlier a signal had been picked up by one of her agents whilst passing through on the outer edge of Council space. It had deteriorated to the point where little was discernible other than a word that may have been 'T'Soni.' However when the source was investigated, the agent found a remote outpost that looked as though it had been abandoned decades earlier. However his arrival triggered a second signal, a beacon of sorts that pointed towards a destination in the next system. Now two weeks later, that same agent was still chasing signals across Council space, each time finding a habitat scoured clean of all traces of life. Liara was beginning to curse her curiosity for the waste of resources. One more week, she told herself, then she'd call it off.

What was it that Shepard had said the other day? A wild goose chase? Liara had no idea what a goose was, but it sounded suitably ridiculous.

The second trivial matter had the potential to develop into something far more concerning. In hindsight Liara should have anticipated that Tasha Kurin, former commando captain and scion of the Kurin family, couldn't simply turn her back on her duty. When the _Pserimos_ had returned to Thessia minus its captain and carrying instead the daughter of a disgraced traitor, the Kurins had responded to protect their honour. No Kurin would ever willingly turn her back on duty or her family.

Liara had long since regretted not opting for a discreet return, but she knew that news travelled quickly on Thessia. Indeed her arrival had already been anticipated by the reopening of the T'Soni estate. This had never been something that she could hide from. She checked her personal messages and answered the latest demands from Matriarch Lidanya Kurin with another terse, yet polite reply clearly implying that the whole affair was none of her business. It was only a holding tactic, it had already come to her attention through the Broker Network that the Kurins were making concerted efforts to find their wayward daughter. There was the distinct potential that their interference could eventually create problems for the _Normandy_. With a flick of her wrist, Liara dismissed the message, wishing that she could make the whole problem disappear so easily.

"Mistress T'Soni?"

The sudden announcement startled her. After years spent alone on dig sites, Liara had well-honed senses that usually prevented anyone sneaking up on her, but apparently a commando never truly stopped being a commando.

"Mistress T'Soni was my mother," Liara replied. She couldn't keep the edge from her voice. Coming home had forced her to confront buried emotions about Benezia, and it had not been easy. "How many times do I need to ask you to call me Liara?"

"Don't take that tone with me." The response was just as frosty. "You're not a child anymore. You're the head of the T'Soni house and you should be addressed as such…or would you prefer to spend your days hiding under your bed?"

Against Liara's better judgement, a smile tugged at her lips. She straightened her back and stepped away from the console, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders as she did so.

Liara turned around to find Shiala staring at her with an obvious expression of nostalgia. Those days seemed almost carefree in comparison to the horrors her mother's acolyte had suffered since. Being possessed by the Thorian on Feros had changed Shiala's life beyond just the green hue of her skin. Liara suspected that it was the loss of Feros's colonists during the War that had the most devastating effect, but Shiala kept such thoughts to herself, preferring to bury herself in the massive task of restoring and running the T'Soni estate.

Although the estate had never been directly targeted, it had not escaped the War unscathed. Large swathes of the once handsome façade were pitted and blackened, and the entire south wing was entirely uninhabitable. In an odd way, Liara was grateful. The south wing had been the family living quarters. Her mother's rooms especially she had no desire to visit. Not yet.

"I was never particularly good at hiding."

"That's because you didn't pay any attention to my advice, much as you are doing now. You have been working for too long," Shiala admonished gently. "I know this work is of great importance, but it will mean little if you work yourself into your grave. A meal has been prepared, you should eat it."

Liara stifled her grumpy protest about being treated like a child. "And Evan?"

"Commander Shepard is still in the courtyard with Matriarch Calis." Shiala habitually forgot to drop the 'Commander' and was unapologetic when reminded. "Although from the conversation I overheard, I do not think that she is still there willingly."

Liara fought to rein in the knowing smile that wanted to cross her lips. She knew her bondmate all too well. Despite the importance of her training with the Matriarch, Shepard struggled with anything she didn't consider herself to be 'good at.'

"I think a rescue is in order." It was easier to step away from her work when there was something else to occupy her mind. "Will you join us for dinner?"

Shiala's body stiffened noticeably. "Mistress T'Soni, that would be…inappropriate."

"Is it inappropriate to eat with family?" Liara replied quickly, hoping to put Shiala at ease. The last thing she wanted was for the ex-commando to feel uncomfortable in a house that she had called her home for centuries. She was anxious to establish a new relationship between them, one that was not based on Shiala having been her mother's acolyte, or having watched over her as a child. "Please. Evan is no doubt sick of my company."

Shiala inclined her head. "Then I will join you. Thank you…Liara. Watching as the colonists on Feros died during the War, feeling a small part of me die every time one of them did, I thought that I would never feel a sense of belonging again. And I certainly did not expect to find it in this place."

A tremulous smile touched the older asari's lips before she made a hasty exit, as though fearful that she would embarrass herself if she lingered.

Grateful that she had Shepard's predicament to prevent her from returning to work, Liara made her way outside. The gentle breeze that brushed against her skin berated her for having spent all day indoors. She paused for a moment, drawing in a deep breath, savouring the crisp air. The T'Soni estate occupied a prominent point on the Armali coast. The grounds gently sloped away from the house, leading down towards the sea some several hundred metres away. The once immaculate gardens were now something of a ruined wilderness by asari standards. The expanse of lush purple grass was scorched in places, pockmarked with shell holes exposing the dark earth beneath, some stretching dozens of metres across.

The foliage that remained had escaped the shackles of constant pruning, allowed to grow naturally for the first time in centuries. In all truth, Liara preferred nature's intended shapes – asymmetrical and imperfect. The holes, and indeed the house itself, would all be repaired in time, but she intended to let the garden grow wild.

Her simple plans caused a slight pang of despondency. For all she knew, her stay here would be a brief interlude before duty dragged her away once more. Leaving ought to have been effortless. All her years spent living on dig sites and star ships should have cured her of the need to put down roots, for a home of her own, but she could not deny the lure of her family home. Even with all the baggage that entailed - memories of Benezia, of her lonely childhood – she felt a sense of peace in this place. And, in the wake of all that had happened to her in recent years, she could not take peace for granted.

On making her way to the courtyard, Liara found Shepard and Matriarch Calis sitting in the last of the sun's warmth. They were both seated cross-legged, although that was where the similarities ended. While the Matriarch was the epitome of calm, Shepard looked as though she was poised on the brink of flight – her knee twitched incessantly and her face looked as though she was undergoing some form of torture as opposed to meditating. Liara did not announce her presence immediately, instead she lingered at a safe distance.

Even from an innocuous position, Matriarch Calis radiated a sense of power. Her midnight blue skin appeared black at times, in stark contrast to the vibrant green markings that ran from her forehead down to her jaw line. Liara had known the elder asari from childhood, even calling her 'Aunt' when she was younger although there was no familial relation. More recently, Liara knew that the Matriarch had fallen out with Benezia when she refused to believe that Saren could be guided towards anything other than evil. And now Calis was one of the few asari on Thessia whom Liara could trust to help Shepard understand her random biotic-like powers. Even whilst rebuilding in the aftermath of War, asari politics were a minefield where Liara had few allies. The time would eventually come when Shepard would have to reveal herself. Until then, Liara was determined to do everything in her power to keep her bondmate safe.

"This is pointless," Shepard snapped, blatantly losing patience with the exercise. Her eyes opened. "We've been doing this for weeks with absolutely no success."

"It is apparent that your measure of success differs from mine." If Calis was offended by Shepard's outburst, she did not reveal it in her voice. The Matriarch opened her eyes and regarded Shepard with an impenetrable gaze. "However you are tired, it is therefore prudent that we end your training for today."

Shepard bristled noticeably. "I'm not tired. I just don't see the point in wasting time on so-called training when I could be doing something useful."

That earned a reaction of sorts. Calis pursed her lips in displeasure. "Something useful? You are a soldier. Your uses are limited to killing and ordering others to kill for you."

A small gasp left Liara's lips in response to the words. Regardless of the element of truth contained within the words, they did not represent everything about her bondmate. Almost unconsciously, she took a step forward. However, at the precise moment that her boot hit the tiles, Shepard flared. A brilliant red corona enveloped her seated form. Tendrils of the mysterious energy darted outwards in an unstable dance.

While the fury on Shepard's face quickly gave way to fear, Matriarch Calis did not move a muscle. Instead she remained seated. Even as the energy lashed out towards her, she calmly observing her pupil.

Liara's first instinct was to go to Shepard's side but she forced herself to remain at a distance, trusting in the Matriarch's ability to teach and in Shepard's own resolve not to panic.

"Explain to me how the energy feels, Shepard. Do you have control over it?"

Shepard responded with a taut shake of her head. "It's…no, I can't control it. I can feel it flowing through me, I can feel the potential, waiting to be used, but I have no idea how to do anything with it. It's like I'm just a spectator."

"Very well, maintain calm. The energy needs to be released, or there is the distinct possibility that it will tear you apart on a molecular level. In the past, what has happened to cause the field to dissipate?"

Shepard's lip trembled slightly. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps. "I've either attacked something…or, ummm, it's been released when I've…" Her voice trailed off for a moment, before she clearly remembered that she was an adult as opposed to an awkward teenager. "When I've climaxed, during sex."

Calis frowned pensively. "While the latter would obviously be quieter and create less of a mess, it would also be time consuming and awkward. Attack me."

"What?"

"For a moment, consider me your enemy. It should not be too difficult for you given your primitive, violent nature."

"I'm not violent natured!" Shepard snapped back. "Or primitive! And you can't possibly expect me to attack you here…or anywhere for that matter."

Events suddenly unfolded at lightning speed. The Matriarch flared to match Shepard. Calis's own corona, a brilliant blue, enveloped her body. With a sharp cry, she detonated the corona, projecting the dark energy outwards at speed. The two fields - blue and red - collided with a low boom that echoed around the courtyard. The shockwave rippled outwards and Liara instinctively threw up her barriers.

In the wake of the explosion, the only casualty was a small stone statue that had been sent flying from its pedestal, one that Liara had never liked. She felt a small sense of satisfaction at seeing it smash on the tiles. Both Shepard and Matriarch Calis remained seated at the cetre of the maelstrom.

The expression on Calis's face was once again a mask of calm. It was only Shepard's face that hinted at what had just happened.

"It is as I feared," the Matriarch intoned softly. "Your power is entwined with your emotions and inherantly unstable. Were you an asari, you would be confined to a monastery for several centuries. However you are not, and as such the constraints imposed by your short life span may negate the usefulness of any knowledge I can impart. Dr T'Soni-" Calis turned to look at Liara, obviously having been aware that she was there the whole time. "- your opinion is relevant given the nature of your relationship, but I would strongly advise that this human adheres to a strict regime of biotic suppressants for the rest of her lifespan."

Shepard had obviously not realised Liara was present. She rose to her feet with an indignant expression on her face. "Does this human get any say at all in the matter? There's no way in hell I'm taking drugs for the rest of my life. The only time I've been in any danger of imploding is whilst I've been with you, prior to that I've been perfectly fine. These so-called training sessions are over!"

Without a further word, Shepard marched out of the courtyard. Liara was left with the Matriach, an apologetic expression on her face as she closed the distance between them. Calis rose to her feet gracefully, albeit with a well-concealed slowness that hinted at her great age. She stared for a long moment at Shepard's swift moving form in the distance, her expression unreadable.

She spoke just as Liara was attempting to find words with which to fill the silence. "Your bondmate is a fasincating individual, Mistress T'Soni."

The formal title sounded even more grating coming from the Matriarch. For some reason Liara felt even less able to correct Calis, than she did with Shiala.

"Enigmatic and powerful, yet conversely childlike and altogether infuriating. And pain…she carries so much within that peculiar body of hers…in fact, I am not altogether sure that it is her body." Calis turned to look at Liara properly for the first time, a deep frown creasing her ordinarily smooth brow. "Your mother fought to keep you sheltered, this is not the life she would have wished for you."

"Are any of us living the life that our parents would have wished?" Liara asked in reply, fighting down her anger towards Benezia for that very upbringing.

The Matriarch's frown disappeared, replaced by a small smile. "No, I suppose not. I do not envy you in this life you have chosen, yet I suspect that you would not wish to change it for any amount of wealth or happiness."

"Knowing what I do now?" Liara shook her head. "No. Absolutely not. Evan and I are bondmates for the rest of our lives, however long or short that may be."

"Then convince your bondmate to resume her training."

Liara nodded. "I will. Perhaps not today however. I underestimated how taxing this would be for her."

Calis inclined her head. "That is your prerogative, Mistress."

This time Liara managed to do nothing other than ground her teeth at the word.

"I suppose you know that speculation is rife amongst the legislature regarding your return. It is only a matter of time until you must formally announce your presence…and that of Commander Shepard."

"I know, but to do so would announce her existence to the rest of the Galaxy, and I fear she is not ready for that. Not yet"

With an elegant swish of her dress, Calis turned to leave. She glanced over her shoulder. The look on her face made Liara feel like a small child once again. "I agree with you, Mistress, but we live in a time where we must all be ready, regardless of our lack of preparation...or aptitude. Please tell Commander Shepard that I expect to see her tomorrow at dawn for morning meditation."

As Liara watched Calis leave, she instinctively knew what Shepard would say in response to that request and it was not something that she was willing to repeat to the Matriarch's face. She remained standing still long after the Matriarch had disappeared inside the house. Ruminating over the direction her life had taken. It was undoubtedly full circle – back to her ancestral home to be surrounded by individuals who had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. For someone who had spent so much time alone, or in the company of strangers, it was almost unsettling. Liara was stirred to action by a soft breeze stroking her cheek, reminding her that she wasn't one of the statues in the courtyard.

Shepard had made as far as the small bluff overlooking the sea by the time Liara caught up to her. The wind was much stronger, making its presence felt with invigorating salt tinged gusts. Without saying a word, Liara slid an arm around Shepard's waist and drew their bodies together. It wasn't overly cold – even as the sun dropped lower - but she tucked herself in close regardless, enjoying the simple moment between them. The sunset created a riot of colours across both sky and sea – brilliant purples blended into golden yellows above, contrasting with the dark turquoise of the sea below.

Shepard turned her head, pressing her cheek to Liara's. A small sigh escaped her lips, her mood had obviously softened from her angry outburst in the courtyard.

"I'll apologise to Matriarch Calis," Shepard said quietly. "But I'm not wasting any more of my time trying to control my biotics…or whatever the hell they are."

"That is your prerogative." Liara had no desire to enter into an argument, not in that moment.

They slipped into a comfortable silence, even as the temperature dropped and Shepard's cheek grew cold. Liara had since closed her eyes, leaning more heavily into the solid, reassuring body next to her. For the first time in years, Liara actually felt as though she was physically removed from the chaos that had governed her life – even though the source of most of that chaos was standing next to her.

Thoughts about work were still very much present, but they jostled for space alongside the more mundane concerns that were usually the preserve of 'normal' people. Liara wondered whether the kitchen had prepared her favourite dessert to accompany the evening meal, or if she actually needed it (of course she did). She supposed that learning how to make it herself would solve that problem, but cooking was a skill she had never had cause to learn.

"We could stay here you know," Shepard said in a quiet voice. It barely carried above the wind. "The Alliance will never be strong enough to challenge Asari sovereignty in their own territory. We could live out the rest of our lives in peace. We could even start our family tomorrow."

There was a hint of a smile in Shepard's voice. Liara turned so she could see it for herself and couldn't remember her bondmate ever looking so wistful. So hopeful. "You're tempted?" Shepard's hope was infectious.

"I was tempted," Shepard replied with another sigh. "For about…two minutes. Just now." The hope disappeared, replaced by an expression of resignation. "But I don't want to raise my kids in a Galaxy dominated by fear. I'll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen. Even if I have to tear everything apart and rebuild it again."

Shepard shifted her body so she could wrap both arms around Liara's shoulders. Liara eagerly surrendered to the embrace, feeling a thrill course through her body as their lips met – tenderly at first, before desire drove her to intensify the kiss. Wrapped up in the meeting of their lips were the promises of that future, of children and a life together. Their urgency however, carried the implicit warning that they were promises that might remain unfulfilled. Even after everything they had been through, a happy ending wasn't guaranteed. It wasn't fair, but Liara only had to turn her mind to Ashley to remind herself that life could end at any moment.

The kiss didn't last nearly as long as Liara would have liked, but she knew that the stirrings of desire in the pit of her stomach could not be satisfied on a windswept hillside - not unless she wanted sand in places where it did not belong. They had all night to remind one another that, for the time being, they were together.

Liara slipped out of Shepard's arms and began leading her bondmate back towards the house. When Shepard didn't maintain her grip, Liara looked back to find her staring out to sea. Shepard's brow was furrowed, indicating she was deep in thought.

"Is it right that we should get to decide what shape the Galaxy should take?" Shepard asked, playing devil's advocate.

The question took Liara by surprise. Her lips parted but no response was immediately forthcoming. However the longer she stared at Shepard - the unassuming and very human exterior concealing power and an unparalleled destiny - the clearer the answer became.

"You're the Architect of Fate." Liara said simply. "Who better to decide? Now hurry up before our dinner grows cold."

She turned and began walking up the gentle slope towards the house. After a few moments, she heard Shepard running to catch up.

"I know your true motivations, Liara T'Soni! You're only interested in dessert."

"That's not true!" Liara protested. There might have been a hint of truth, especially as her feet started moving faster.

A carefree laugh came from just behind her, then Shepard was suddenly streaking past at pace. Hair streaming out behind her as she ran across the grass. It would have been a simple matter for Liara to launch into a biotic charge, but that would have taken all the fun out of the chase. After hours spent working, the physical act of running was exactly what she needed.

And if she could catch up to Shepard before they made it back to the house, then perhaps a windswept hillside wouldn't be such a bad place to satiate her desire after all.

* * *

 

**_Normandy SR-2_ ** **, Ismar Frontier**

"Do you have any idea how this is going to work, Lawson?"

Miranda pretended to ignore Jack. She kept her gaze focused on the Galaxy Map below her even though she was no longer paying any attention to it. Jack's question needed an answer. Her first thought had been to respond with an irritated 'I don't know.' That thought originated from the simple black and white of their relationship of old. When Jack wouldn't call her anything that wasn't an insult. And Miranda had believed that the best place for Jack was an institution...or a body bag.

However, even from the depths of her exhaustion, Miranda knew that this was counterproductive. They were both still working out how to navigate their newfound respect. It was an uneasy truce. Despite all that they had been through together, Miranda still couldn't bring herself to believe that she cared about Jack...and vice versa.

She pushed away from the rail and turned around just as she heard Jack's foot start tapping impatiently.

"You're making even less sense than usual." Miranda left the platform with deliberate steps. Her shift was nearing an end. Grenier had been loitering in the CIC for the past fifteen minutes waiting to take command. She was hungry, tired, and in no mood for any sort of discussion with Jack. Scratch that, she was so tired that she couldn't be bothered to eat anything. "You know full well how this works. The Shadow Broker gives us leads, we follow them up."

"And with any luck we'll eventually catch up to that Batarian bastard - yeah I do know. That's not what I meant. How is _this_ -" Jack pointed between the two of them "-going to work?"

An exasperated sigh escaped Miranda's lips. "If you're set on being a pain in my arse then you'll have to walk with me. You've got five minutes." She walked past the _Normandy's_ XO with a curt nod. "The deck is yours, Grenier."

"Aye-aye, ma'am."

There was an unmistakable expression of relief on the young man's face as the burden of command settled on his shoulders. Miranda knew exactly how he felt. Command was a purpose that superseded everything else. An occupation that needed your full attention. The perfect antidote to wandering thoughts and a painful absence that threatened to consume you from within.

The only other thing that worked was a deep and dreamless sleep. And that was exactly where Miranda was heading.

"I won't play games with you, Jack" Miranda continued in the privacy of the elevator. Alone with just Jack for company, she could finally release the tension from her shoulders. She sagged against the wall. Her feet ached even though she wore standard issue combat boots as opposed to her heels of old. "Whatever it is that's on your mind, spit it out."

"Fine. I don't have a problem with the fact that we're not in the Alliance anymore, and that you're up in the Nest and strutting around the CIC issuing order like you're a Captain."

Miranda shook her head. "I'm not-"

"Cut the bullshit, Lawson. Yeah, I know you don't want people to call you 'Captain' but you're the fucking Captain all the same."

"You didn't tell me you had a problem with that." Miranda said the words more quietly than she intended. What she didn't want to admit to herself, was that she couldn't handle the thought of not having Jack's support.

Jack smirked and shook her head. "I had a fucking blast outranking you, especially at the start before everything went to shit. It was my job to constantly remind you that you were a shitty excuse for a human being, exactly what I'd wanted to do when we first met...well that and rip your smug face off." The smirk vanished. "Now I'm back to being one of the crew, and besides busting heads, I don't know how this is supposed to work. If I tell you you're doing a piss poor job of captaining this ship, are you going to kick me out at the next port?"

The elevator door opened. With a sense of relief, Miranda exited the cramped confines and was able to turn her back on the other biotic. She didn't want Jack to see the crestfallen expression on her face. Palming the door to the Nest open, Miranda wished she could leave Jack standing outside so she didn't have to listen to another word.

"You yourself said we're not in the Alliance anymore," Miranda replied in a taut voice. She made straight for the sofa and busied herself with the act of taking her boots off. Her fingers felt numb as she struggled with the laces. "Anyone that isn't happy under my command is welcome to leave the ship."

Jack had followed her, but she didn't take a seat. She stood, arms folded across her chest, determined expression on her face. "I'd like to see you try running the ship by yourself. Well, you and EDI, considering she'd be stuck here with you."

Miranda managed to wrestle one boot free, staring at it for a few moments before launching it at the opposite wall. The noise reverberated in her ears and she closed her eyes in an effort to block everything else out. She rarely gave in to such blatant outbursts of temper, but exhaustion had eroded her self-control. Nor did she harbour any reservations about her behaviour in front of Jack.

While her eyes were closed, Jack moved around the Nest, making no attempt to disguise her movements. A cupboard opened and the clink of glass was followed immediately by liquid sloshing into a glass. Jack helped herself to Miranda's booze without qualm.

"I would offer you a glass," Jack said, as though it was her stash and she was being generous. "But you're depressing enough already."

Miranda didn't bother to offer up a reply. She regretted letting Jack into her private space, especially as the other woman was busy making herself at home. Miranda eventually opened her eyes to find Jack lying on her bed, boots and all, drink in hand.

"So it's a mutiny then?" Miranda asked wearily. She tried to remember how she would have dealt with such insubordination when she was with Cerberus, but coherent thoughts were difficult to hold onto. The only thought cascading through her head with any clarity was that she shouldn't be in her current predicament at all.

"Don't be fucking dramatic or I'll have to start calling you Cheerleader again." Jack leaned back and folded one hand behind her head. "You think this crew would shit on Williams' memory by being anything less than loyal to you? That's not what this little convo is about."

"Then would you care to enlighten me? What is this conversation about, Jack? Other than preventing me from going to sleep of course."

"Not stopping you from doing shit." Jack leaned forward. She thumped the bed at her side in invitation, as though it was also hers to offer. "You can't force the rest of the crew to mourn Williams the way you do. She meant a hell of a lot to all of them, that's why they're still onboard, trying to get a job done. But it's pretty fucking difficult to do a job with a black cloud hanging over your head, waiting to piss on you any second. Williams is gone, it's shitty as hell, but you've got a crew to lead. So lead them. You need to keep crying your tits off? Fine, do it up here. You wanna fight it out? Hell, you know I don't need to be asked twice to go twelve rounds with you. I'm your sparring partner, whipping girl, whatever the fuck you want to call it. Take it out on me instead of the crew."

Miranda studied the earnest expression on Jack's face and felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She didn't deserve the offering, nor did she want to use Jack in that way. However the more Miranda thought about it, the more she realised that it was her only chance to restore some semblance of normality.

Without saying a word, she began stripping the rest of her uniform off in a perfunctory manner. The other boot came off easily. This time she didn't throw it at the wall. She was literally stripping in front of Jack, but there was nothing sensual about the act.

Eventually, clad in just her bra and underwear, Miranda set about tidying away the last remnants of Ashley's life. The clothes, even though they still carried Ashley's scent, went into the laundry hamper without fanfare. Throughout the whole process, Jack simply sipped her drink whilst watching with an expression between amusement and confusion on her face.

By the time that she finished, Miranda realised that it had been mercifully brief. However it brought none of the cathartic release that she had hoped for. Nor was she satisfied by a return to order. Standing in the middle of the Nest, she felt bereft. Her lack of movement allowed her body to grow cold, and gooseflesh pricked at her exposed skin. With a sense of resignation she headed towards the bed, whispering 'lights out' as she neared. Again not voicing her intentions, she peeled back the covers next to Jack and let herself slip into the welcoming embrace of her bed. Jack's presence was unavoidable beside her, but in a strange way it felt reassuring.

When her eyes slid closed, clarity finally returned to her thoughts. "I'm sorry you had to do this, Jack, but I'm...grateful. I can't promise that I'm going to be alright…because I'm not, but you have my full permission to call me out again if I'm being a dick."

Jack laughed merrily. "And there it is! Fuck, guess I should've recorded that shit for posterity."

The Nest descended into silence. Miranda supposed that she should ask Jack to see herself out, but the task grew less important as sleep drew her closer. Sometime later, she felt a slightly chilled hand pressed against her shoulder for a moment, before fingertips trailed down her spine. Miranda shivered in response. She didn't know exactly what she was expecting before she felt the covers being drawn up her back and tucked around her shoulders.

"Just don't lose sight of who you are."

Miranda had always thought Jack incapable of whispering, but here she was. Whispering.

"You're Miranda fucking Lawson, and you'll come out the other side of this. I promise you that."

Just before sleep claimed her completely Miranda was dimly aware of the weight beside her shifting, before disappearing altogether. It was eventually followed by the sound of the Nest's door opening and closing.

For the second time that night, Miranda felt bereft.

* * *

 

**Months later. Blackheath.**

_Cold._

It was the first sensation that she felt. A bone-chilling, all-encompassing cold. For some time it was the only thought that she could process. Awareness of everything else only came as a result of the cold. Each of her limbs were stiff, almost unresponsive. She tested each one in turn, twitching fingers and toes. Although they responded, the movements felt distinctly odd. Almost as though her limbs had not been used for some time…or as though they belonged to someone else. Despite this, her body seemed to work after a fashion. It was her brain that did not. Other than an awareness of her physical form and the ability to process what she was feeling, there was nothing other than an all-encompassing fog. Important things that she knew she ought to know, felt out of reach. She experimentally flicked her tongue around the inside of her mouth. It felt like sandpaper.

There was one thing in particular, of its absolute importance she was certain. A name. _Her_ name. Something so small, so vital, was missing altogether. Even though some instinct was trying to tell her to remain calm, a sense of panic took hold. She tried to force her eyes open, but her eyelids felt as though they were glued together. A sound emerged from her throat - a whimper of distress.

A rapid flurry of footsteps answered. Sharp heels striking hard tiles. Coming towards her. It was the catalyst that reminded her that she ought to be able to see, only to realise that her eyes weren't open. The panic intensified, lending her the strength to move with purpose. At the point that she struggled to rise, her eyelids opened and light flooded her vision. It was a dull light, full of nothing except vague shapes. The shape directly in front of her was moving, vaguely human-like as it reached for her. At the point that warm fingers pressed against her chilled skin, her entire body jolted. It was like an electric current coursing through her veins. Her lips moved again, but the only sound that emerged was a nonsensical whisper.

"Captain Williams...Ashley. Please remain calm. You're safe."

She didn't recognised the heavily accented voice, but that was immaterial. _Ashley Williams_. She finally had her name back. The name was accompanied by a sudden flood of memories. The intensity was almost painful, but she wanted to drink everything in - every last scrap of information that helped piece together a picture of who she was. First and foremost, she was a marine. She remembered different worlds, all associated with hardsuits and the terrifying thrill of combat. Eden Prime, Therum, Noveria, Ilos, Horizon. Then the faces of people she knew returned. Her parents were both dead, but she had sisters - Abby, Lynn...and Sarah. No, Sarah was dead as well. The memory of her sister's body was an unwelcome one. Ash clamped her teeth down angrily and tasted blood in her mouth. Someone was responsible for her baby sister's death. Anger gave her enough strength to sit up. The act caused her to grunt with effort, but movement was coming a little easier with each passing moment of consciousness. The warm hands were on her skin again, supporting her, helping her to lift her torso from the bed. One she was stable, the touch disappeared.

When her vision finally cleared, she was granted her first look at the other individual in the room. The voice and soft touch had made it all too apparent that it was a woman. Dark-haired and pale, the woman stood just in front of the biobed, hands now folded across her chest. The pristine white lab coat gave some indication that she was a doctor, or a scientist.

Through the fog, Ash tried to make her voice work. When it finally emerged it was scratchy, but clear. "Did...you put me back together?"

"Yes," was the simple answer. "You were in quite a state. Do you remember anything?"

Ash thought she recognised the accent, but it continued to elude her.

"Just bits and pieces. I was groundside. A planet called...Chasca. It was the middle of a firefight. I was angry for some reason. Then there was..." Ash remembered a wave of heat, a bright light overriding the display on her visor. She shook her head in frustration. "Nothing. There was nothing. I guess I was knocked unconscious. I owe you my thanks, ma'am."

The raven-haired woman's head cocked to one side, as though Ashley amused her. "Ma'am? How very…military of you."

Although Ash was still desperately trying to sort out exactly what had happened and where she was, for the time being she was unable to focus her attention on anything other than the woman standing in front of her. Before another question could cross Ash's lips, the woman hunkered down slightly, bringing her face directly level with Ashley's.

"I want you to do something for me, Captain Williams. Look directly at me for as long as you need. I want you to tell me if I am familiar in any way. Do I remind you of anyone, even an inkling?"

Ashley studied the woman's face exactly as she was ordered. Her raven black hair was cut in an almost precise fashion, perfectly framing her pale face. A pair of grey blue eyes regarded Ash directly. The gaze was clinical, almost cold, but with a strange hint of expectation. There was possibly something but, as much as Ash strained, she couldn't dredge up anything from the depths of her memory. Something however did click. The accent was Australian.

Almost a minute passed before Ash decided that she could reply with absolute honesty. "No, I have absolutely no idea who you are."

"My name is Dr Oriana Lawson."

The woman tilted her head to one side expectantly, as though the name might conjure some recognition where her face did not. Eventually, when Ash did not respond, her lips curled into a smile. Her teeth flashed white, but there was little warmth to be found. She stepped forward, moving even further into Ashley's space.

Oriana Lawson's proximity made Ash painfully aware of the fact that she was naked, but there was nothing to be done other than remain sitting on the edge of the bed. Oriana reached up to cup her cheek and Ash couldn't deny that the contact felt strangely reassuring on her chilled skin. Warmth flowed through her body, along with a myriad of questions.

"How long have I been out of action, Dr Lawson?"

"Long enough for your return to duty to be vastly overdue. You see, the Alliance needs you, Captain Williams, now more than ever. An old friend of yours has gone rogue, and we need your help putting her down before she brings disaster down on us all."

"Just point me in the direction of the target, ma'am."

Oriana laughed. The simple act had the effect of stripping away some of her icy exterior. It also made her look impossibly young. "Not so fast. There's still a ways to go yet, marine, but you'll have your chance at bringing down Shepard soon."

_Shepard_. The name sparked another torrent of memories of fighting alongside the famous marine. Ash also remembered the pain she'd felt when Shepard had died in the Crucible. How could a dead woman bring disaster down on anyone?

"Shepard was my friend once." The name felt familiar on Ash's tongue, but it also brought with it an unpleasant after taste. Almost as though it was a chemical reaction in her body. No further memories came. There was nothing, at least until she looked back to Oriana Lawson and felt an overwhelming urge to live up to some expectation, some purpose.

"She _was_ your friend. Is that going to cause a problem, Captain Williams?"

Ashley only need a moment to think about it before shaking her head. "No, ma'am. No one is above reproach. If Shepard...or whoever she is, presents a threat to the Alliance, then I'll do everything in my power to see that she's stopped."

Oriana's smile widened. "Are you tired?"

"No." Ash was certain of her answer. She shook her head. "I've slept long enough, ma'am. I want to get back to work."

* * *

 

**A/N** : My heartfelt thanks to everyone who has stuck with me throughout this story, and to those who have joined in along the way. You're all suckers for punishment, but I'm glad to have shared the journey with you.

And it's not over, not yet. If you're game, the saga will continue in the third and final _Fate_ story, _Daughter of Fate_.


End file.
